


Season One

by VenomQuill



Series: Relatively Speaking- Gravity Falls [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 8 1/2 president quentin trembly, Alternate Universe - Relativity Falls, And then all the other monsters, Chubby Z., Clark - Freeform, Creggy G., Deep Chris - Freeform, Gen, Ghost-Eyes - Freeform, Gnomes, Greggy C., Leggy P., Lumberjack Spirit of Vengeance, Ma and Pa ghosts, Merpeople, Mrs. Gleeful - Freeform, Shmebulok, Should I name them all?, Summerween Trickster - Freeform, beardy - Freeform, blendin blandin - Freeform, cheekums, chutzpar - Freeform, gobblewonker - Freeform, jason - Freeform, jeff - Freeform, leaderaur - Freeform, maybe not mermando, pituitar, probably mermando, pubertaur, puns, rumble mcskirmish - Freeform, steve - Freeform, testosteraur - Freeform, wax craz, wax elf, wax john booth, wax lincon, wax mabel, wax sherlock holmes - Freeform, wax william shakespear, wax zyler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 133,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10820889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Season one of Relativity Falls! Every episode is a chapter, hence the twenty "chapters" per "book" The chapters will be sort of lengthy, so watch out for that!Relativity Falls is an AU where most people are switched with older or younger counterparts. For example: Stanley and Stanford are twelve and close as peas in a pod. Dipper and Mabel are in their sixties and distant- very distant. Grauntie Mabel and Great Uncle Dipper! Pacifica is Preston's mom. Fiddleford is a twelve year old kid. Candy is Old Woman Chiu- the female, city version of Old Man McGucket. The list goes on!





	1. Tourist Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford and Stanley go on a trip to see their great aunt Mabel in her shack in the woods. What they suspect to be the boring routine of helping out the Shack all summer takes a turn when Stanford is stumbles upon an old, dusty artifact. Their lives have been changed, this cannot be denied. Yet for better or for worse remains to be seen.

          Forests of pine trees shuttered and waved in the summer’s breeze. As far as the eye could see, which was quite far as the air was clear and natural, pine trees took root. Through the entirety of the valley and the cliffs around it, the forest was nettled, yet abundant with life. This life was left mostly unbroken, though the presence of generations of lumberjacks helped change that. Still, most of the wild was left untamed with only a few modest roads going in and out of the valley. Scant cars and rare buses traveled along the worn roads. One such a bus, mostly vacant, scooted toward the sleepy town of Gravity Falls, Oregon.

          Twin boys sat near the front. Their luggage, big and marked by names and stickers and patches, were held under the twelve-year-old boys. The window-seat one stared off into the pine forest. His dark eyes searched the trees eagerly. Though the gargantuan pines made a physical barrier that blocked any sight of the town, save for its giant broken rail-road bridge, that didn’t stop the boy from searching.

          The boy’s twin kept his nose buried in a book. His wayfarer glasses stuck to his nose and, despite the angle his head leaned, the glasses didn’t fall from his nose. His fix fingered hands curled around the edges of the book and his muscles tensed as excitement stole him.

           “Bro!” The window-seat boy’s cry caused his brother to jump and fumble with his book.

           “What? What?”

          Stanley laughed but didn’t turn his gaze from the window. “We’re here! We’re here! Look!”

          Stanford bookmarked his page and looked up. Indeed, the trees thinned and broke to reveal a small, active town. People and cars alike moved through the streets. The buildings, most square but some round or cylindrical, warmed under the noon summer sun.

          Stanley cheered as the bus slowed down. “Yeah! Finally! Ugh, we’ve been here for _forever!”_

           “Only a few hours,” Stanford scolded and put away his book.

           “A few too many!” The bus rolled to a stop. Although Stanley jumped up and grabbed his wheeled bag, he couldn’t get out as the way was blocked by his aisle-seat brother. Stanford muffled a smile and slowly got up and stretched. “Ford!” Stanley whined.

          Stanford glanced back at him. “What? I’m sore from sitting here so long.”

           “Then go outside!” Stanley suggested. “Wow! Even from here the air _smells_ different!”

           “ _Not_ a city,” Stanford agreed. He rolled his bag out into the center lane and walked down the aisle. “Do you think Great Aunt Mabel is here, yet?”

           “Definitely!” Stanley ran out of the bus behind Stanford.

           “No running!” the bus driver called.

          Stanley hardly headed the bus driver’s words long enough to get off the bus. When he did, he ran out into the grass next to the bus stop. “Land!”

          Stanford took a deep breath of piney air and looked about. A few people crowded the bus station, but not many. There were a few teenagers and some adults. There was even a dog. Stanley’s heart began to sink. Where was their great aunt?

          Not a second after this fear came to him did the sudden presence of their aunt appear. The lady, perhaps in her sixties, though that seemed a bit of a stretch, waved at them from the other side of the bus station. Her sweater, pink and flashy, bore the words “Great Aunt Pines”. A pink fez bearing a shooting star symbol matched the florescent garb. “Hey! There you two are!”

          Stanley and Stanford both focused their immediate attention on their great aunt as she strode over to them. “You’ve been on that stuffy bus a few hours, I bet! It’s been forever since I saw you two last!”

           “You bet, Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley greeted and ran to his brother’s side

           “Hello, Grauntie Mabel,” Stanford piped up, though his voice was a bit quieter than his brother’s.

           “Still a bit of a quiet guy, huh, Ford?” Mabel prompted. “You two must be hungry. Let’s go grab some lunch and then unwind a bit, huh?”

          Grauntie Mabel’s car was parked just a few feet away. Shiny blue and decorated with little flowers, the old convertible hid under the shadow of a pine tree. When Stanford struggled to pull his suitcase into the trunk, Stanley helped him. When they got in the car, Stanley, of course, called shotgun. Stanford set his hands on the seat. They were fuzzy, yet not furry. They were thin enough to give off the feeling of fuzz, but smooth enough not to look the part.

           “Seatbelts, everyone!” Grauntie Mabel called as she started the old car. Stanford didn’t hesitate to follow the order. Even the seatbelts were different! Still, though modern cars were much more comfortable, and safer and more environmentally friendly, being in an extinct vehicle was a comfort and curiosity of its own.

           “How was your trip? What did your dad say about me? He didn’t spoil anything did he?” she asked.

          Stanley shook his head. “Nope! Dad said that we’re gunna spend the summer here.”

          Stanford piped up, “He said you’re going to spoil us and that we should probably watch out for that.”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Ah your father is a funny guy. So! Who wants peanut butter sandwiches and cookies?”

          Not even Stanford could resist becoming excited at the thought of pb&j’s and cookies. “Yeah!” the twins piped up at the same time.

          When the car stopped, Grauntie Mabel got out and waved her hand to the shabby, triangle roofed building they stood before. “Welcome to the Mystery Shack!” she announced.

           “MYSTERY SHACK” stood in bold, wooden letters on the roof, one word on top of the other. Although the many signs screaming at them to go to the old shack as well as the weird totem pole decoration in the forest yard felt different, what was oddest of all was Mabel’s companion. The old pig, who was a good hundred and twenty pounds, lounged on the porch. “Watch for pig!” was written on a sign next to the door.

          Stanford, a hand firm on his wheeled bag, followed his great aunt and brother into the old house.

           “Hey, Dan!” Grauntie Mabel called with a wave to the boy at the counter.

          The boy, who’d been texting, waved back. “Afternoon, Ms. Pines.”

           “That’s Dan,” Grauntie Mabel informed them. “He works here. Fiddleford works here, too. He’s our little mechanic! If you see him- hello, Fiddleford!”

          A door that read ‘Employees Only” had opened. Standing in the doorway, eyes round in shock, was another twelve-year-old boy. He was lanky, but not scraggly. His long, wavy sandy-brown hair was ruffled, yet not dirty. One hand gripped a bag that had been slung over his shoulder and the other held a broom. However, when he heard Mabel’s voice, he froze, eyes wide and staring at the twins. Stanford was heavily reminded of a deer in some very bright headlights.

          Grauntie Mabel gave him a patient smile. “This is Stanley and Stanford! My great nephews! I told you about them, didn’t I?”

           “O-oh! Right!” Fiddleford stuttered and then cleared his throat. His thick, country accent flowed through his words. “My name is Fiddleford McGucket. I’m working here as a mechanic for Ms. Mystery and she told me that you were her nephews. I-I’m twelve, too, and my name is- er, you two look really alike.”

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, lots of people tell us that.”

          Stanley put his arm around Stanford’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Ha-ha! Yep! Twins!”

           “That reminds me: are you done fixing that pipe?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yes, ma’am! I just finished.”

           “Oh, good! Do you want some lunch?”

          Fiddleford’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Thank you, Ms. Pines!”

           “Ah you deserve it, you little rascal. Dan?”

           “Nah. Thanks, Ms. Pines,” Dan waved his hand at her.

           “If you say so!” With that, Grauntie Mabel lead them into her kitchen. The kitchen itself was small, but cluttered with cooking supplies, instructions, food, and various items dropped off and never retrieved. “Sit down anywhere you like. So, uh… orange juice or water or… hmm… Mabel Juice?”

          Stanley took the seat at the front of the table before Stanford could, which forced the boy to take a seat between him and Fiddleford. “Orange juice,” Stanley answered.

           “Ah, me, too, please,” Stanford agreed.

           “Um, uh… me, too, please.”

           “Okay.” Mabel shrugged and took out a few sandwiches from the fridge, a whole plate of still warm cookies, and a gallon three quarters full of orange juice. Balancing the objects on his arms and in her hands, she set down the objects and retrieved a few cups.

          The cookies, Stanford noticed, glinted a rainbow of colors in the light. Some cookies sparkled blue while others sparkled pink or red or purple. A few glinted green and another was silver. The cookies themselves were plain brown and flecked dark brown with chocolate, however. “Uh, Grauntie Mabel?” Stanford prompted.

           “Yeah, Ford?” Grauntie Mabel sat down between Stanley and Fiddelford and immediately poured a few glasses of orange juice.

           “Do those cookies have glitter in them?”

          Mabel gave him a teasing smile. “Secret recipe, kiddo. So, how was the trip?” She pushed the plate of sandwiches and the plate of cookies to the center of the table.

          Stanley immediately grabbed the one on top. “It was _boring!_ ”

          Stanford nodded. “We had to drive a while. Stanley’s gamekid died on the way here.”

           “In the middle of a level!” Stanley agreed and took a bite of his sandwich. Stanford had to keep himself from laughing upon seeing the expression of shock that immediately followed the bite. “What are these made of, Grauntie Mabel?”

          Grauntie Mabel, who was already halfway done with hers, eyed his sandwich. “Hmm… that’s peanut butter and lettuce with cheese and… oh what else was there? Fish! Great, right?”

           “Uh, yeah.” Stanley agreed, though he didn’t put too much enthusiasm in his voice.

          Stanford looked down at his own sandwich. Peanut butter, lettuce, and ground beef. Well, he knew his great aunt was a bit silly and… creative–especially when it came to crafting, which probably included cooking–he did not expect for all this. This… was going to take some getting used to.

          Out of politeness, and hunger, the twins ate the food provided. Fiddleford didn’t even make a face at his food. How long had he been here? Probably a while if he didn’t even flinch at whatever was in _his_ sandwich. He was also the first to take a few of the cookies. Stanley, being the braver of the two twins, took a green-sparkle cookie first. Although his enthusiasm toward the cookies lasted for about three of the confections, he got a dry throat and coughed up half a handful of glitter. Not good.

          At least the orange juice was normal.

          Thankfully, they were excused to their room soon after lunch… which was in the attic. Grauntie Mabel opened the door for them. “Got it all cleaned up for you two! You can even see the backyard from here! Dinner’s at six and the living room has a TV. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs!” Then, she was gone.

          Stanley raced to his bed, first. Stanford walked to his bed at a slower pace. He walked backwards, even, to take in the entire room.

          Stanley tacked up yet another poster above his messy, plain bed, this time of a football team. “Whoa! Check out all my splinters!” He held out his hands and bared his teeth, a mix of baby, adult, and even a half-filled gap, in the most exuberant expression as he revealed the many splinters that had embedded themselves into his fingers and palm.

          Stanford, eyes flicking about the room and the wheeled bag he held, shuffled back toward his clean, if blank, bed. A pink pig with darker splotches perched on his bed oinked at his approach. His snout twitched as he sniffed him. “And there’s a pig on my bed,” Stanford stated. Stanley snickered at his reaction.

 

          Their rooms were cleaned and decorated to their liking, and Stanley’s multiple splinters removed, by the end of the day. Thankfully, their dinner consisted of tacos free of any glitter or non-taco ingredients. They didn’t touch the cookies again. Then, their first day was done. The next day started their summer routine. They were woken at about eight, given pancakes sans glitter, and then put to work. Lunch was at twelve, which was just as much of a mystery as the shack, and dinner was before break-time and bed.

          Grauntie Mabel was now leading a group of tourists through her house-turned-tourist-trap. She waved her hand to a weird horse-creature next to her. It was the body of a rearing horse. However, instead of having a horse’s head, it just had a longer neck that connected to another horse’s body. “And this,” she proclaimed, “is a centaur-taur!”

          The crowd that followed her ooh’d and aah’d at the fake attraction that marked the end of their tour. In another room, the Mystery Shack’s two newest members were working. Stanford swept up a few pieces of dust and dried dirt from the floor in front of the cash register.

          Stanley looked over some sort of giant, slit-pupiled eye. When he reached over to touch it, Grauntie Mabel’s voice stopped him. “Hey, Stanley! Done already? Why don’t you help Fiddleford with the bathrooms?” Stanley glanced at his brother, as if asking for help. Stanford shrugged. Stanley sighed and slunk to the other side of their store-slash-house. Unlike their father, who would scold them for even touching merchandise, their great aunt would deter them from touching the fragile ones with chores.

 

          After a few days of this grueling routine, Stanford figured that they were probably going to be doing this for the rest of the summer. He even went so far as to mourn the fantasy he thought was going to be their summer. That was, until one fateful day…

          The twins got their great aunt to allow them to work together. So, they did. Stanford rearranged the objects on one of the shelves so that they were neat and in the front- very easily seen by anyone passing by. Stanley, as usual, had found a way to slack off. Although the ring of question mark t-shirts needed fluffing up and the shirts straightened, Stanley had somehow found himself hiding in the clothes, knees bent, muscles tense, and eyes straight ahead.

          Stanford sighed. “I know you’re bored, but we have to finish our chores! …if you break anything, she’ll have our heads.”

          Stanley waved his hand. “I won’t break anything!”

          Stanford glanced at the newly organize shelf, and then the ruffled shirts Stanley was hiding in. Before he could call out to him again, he noticed a slight shadow falling over the ground behind Stanley. Grauntie Mabel, an amused, playful glint in her eyes, stalked up to the t-shirt stand and crossed her arms. A few signs were in her arms. “Whatcha doin’ kid?”

          Stanley screamed and spun around. Upon seeing who it was, however, he sighed. “Oh. Hey! I was, uh, organizing these shirts.”

          Their great aunt looked up in the direction Stanley had been facing. Waddles ate a potato on the ground. “Sure you were. Now! I need someone to hang up these signs along the road!”

           “Not it!” Stanley and Stanford piped up at the same time.

          Grauntie Mabel looked over at the cashier. “Boyish” Dan currently sat at the register, looking over a magazine. “Dan! I need you to hang up these signs!”

          Dan, not looking up from his magazine, attempted to reach for the signs halfway across the room. “I would… but I… can’t reach…” he said in a fake wheeze.

          Grauntie Mabel sighed. “Alright. Well… it looks like _I’ll_ have to choose. So…” She looked at the twins and put two of her fingers together. “How about… you! Stanford, please put up these signs in the spooky part of the forest.”

          Stanford yelped and stumbled back as he barely managed to catch the pointed signs given to him. He looked down at the colorful advertisements and then back up at Grauntie Mabel with round eyes. “But every time I go out there, I feel like something’s watching me. Plus, it’s really hard to see.”

          Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms again, though a smirk now played on her features. “Those don’t work on me. Besides, there’s nothing weird going on in those woods. It’s just part of the lore, made to sell things like this to people like them!” She waved her hand to a cluster of tourists who were looking through some of the items in the gift shop. “Now, quit being so paranoid! Stanley! Organize those shirts for me, will you?”

          Stanford sighed, but made no other motion to disagree.

 

          Mist, still unable to evaporate under the broken light of the sun, swirled around the feet of trees. Stanford knocked a screw into one of the trees and hung up a sign. “Ugh. Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me?” he muttered as he continued making a trail of signs. “There’s definitely something going on-” he cut himself off as, when he attempted to pin up another sign, the tree clanged like an empty tube. Stanford’s eyebrows furrowed. He set his ear to the dusty tree and knocked his hammer against it again. Again, a _clang_ came in response. He put his hammer down and ran his fingers over the tree trunk, leaving trails through the dust. Eventually, he fingers caught under something and he pulled back. A portion of the tree _opened._

          Stanford’s eyes grew round as orbs as he looked upon a metal cubby with a machine inside. The machine was covered with switches and buttons. Out of sheer curiosity, he played with a few of the switches. Some switches and buttons did nothing at all. One switch, however, caused the ground behind him to shutter. Stanford yelped and spun around. A section of the ground shuttered and retracted into the ground beside it.

          When Stanford approached the indention, he found that it was covered in cobwebs, millipedes, and a singular, leather-bound book. The boy plucked the book out of the ground and dusted it off. A large blue pine tree silhouette was pasted to the front. A black letter ‘3’ was written on the tree. After a bit of work, he dusted off the cover completely. Despite its age and wear, a slight glint reflected off the silver paper.

          He set it on the ground and knelt beside it. When he opened it, a page that had been stuck to the cover was ripped out. The only part that was left were the words “Property Of” in blue, neat letters. A string with an eyeglass had been curled up and was between the cover and the first page. The first page red “Vol. 3”. When he lifted it, he found the string to be glued to the inside of the book and not the paper.

          Once he flipped the first paper over, he found it filled with words. “June 18” was at the top. Written in curly blue letters that were a mix of cursive and print was the first entry. “It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since I began researching the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.” Stanford stopped reading and contented himself in gently flipping through the old pages. Floating Eyeballs, Vampire Bats, Gnomes, Cursed Doors, pages filled with symbols… “What is this?” he muttered to himself. He paused as he came across a particularly frightening page.

           “TRUST NO ONE” was written in bold, heavy letters and underlined multiple times under what looked like a plain entry. “Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I’m being watched. I must hide this book before he finds it. Remember: in Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust. TRUST NO ONE.” He shut the book. “There’s no one you can trust…”

           “Hello!” Stanley called. Stanford screamed and whipped around, the book held tight to his chest. “Whatcha reading? Some nerd thing?”

          Stanford glanced down at the book and then up at Stanley. “I… let’s go somewhere more private.”

          Stanley raised an eyebrow. “We’re in the middle of the forest, bro. But okay.”

 

          Stanford walked around their living room, the book clutched in his hands. Stanley sat on the chair in front of the TV, his dark eyes following his twin. Stanford laughed. “It’s amazing! Grauntie Mabel said I was being paranoid, but, according to this book, Gravity Falls has this secret dark side!” He opened the book to the ‘TRUST NO ONE’ page and showed it to Stanley.

           “Whoa! No way!” Stanley gasped.

          Stanford nodded and continued his pacing. The book shut in his hands again. “And get this! After a certain point, the pages just stop! Like the guy writing it mysteriously disappeared.”

           “Do ya think he was eatin’ by monsters?” Stanley prompted, eyes round in fascination, though paired with his smile, it looked more like excitement.

          Stanford stared at the paper. “Ooooh! It did say he was being watched. But he hid this book, so it couldn’t have been a random monster.” He continued to pace about again. “What happened? Who was watching him? Why did he mysteriously disappear?”

          Stanley held out his hand. Stanford immediately handed the book to him. “Hmm…” Stanley flipped through the pages and then stopped, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t know, bro. Look at this.” He held out the book for Stanford to look at.

           “It’s completely in code!” Stanford gasped. “What do you think that means? Oooooh!”

          Stanley flipped a few more pages over and showed tattered shreds of paper. “See? A bunch of the pages are ripped out, too.”

           “Do you know what this means?” Stanford prompted.

          Stanley nodded. “Oh, yeah. Another mystery! Hopefully with plenty of these monsters. Look at this! A zombie!” Stanley pointed to a picture of a hunched over, hooded figure with a bared rib cage.

          Stanford gently took the journal and flipped through another few pictures. “Oh, this guy looks promising. A… gremloblin? Whoa!”

          Stanford jumped onto the chair beside Stanley so the two could look over it together. “Oh, we’re going to have to find some way to decode this.”

           “Don’t ya mean you, Poindexter?” Stanley prompted and smirked.

          Stanford chuckled. “Yeah, ’guess I do.”

           “Hmm… ya think we can go out?” Stanley prompted. “You know, explore the forest?”

          Stanford put away the journal and jumped up. “Yeah! Let’s go ask Grauntie Mabel!”

           “Race you to the gift shop!” Stanley darted out of the living room.

           “Hey! No fair!” Stanford called and ran after him.

           “Life ain’t fair!” Stanley called over his shoulder. The boy who got the lead was definitely the first to arrive at their destination. However, just as he ran through the door, their Grauntie Mabel met him. Stanford caught his brother before he could fall. Grauntie Mabel, being much older and bigger than he, simply took a step back.

           “There you are!” Mabel exclaimed.

           “Hey, Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley greeted in an instant. “We were just lookin’ for you!”

           “Were you? What’s the matter, kiddo?” Mabel asked.

           “We wanted to go outside,” Stanley replied.

           “You aren’t planning on running into those woods, are you?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          Stanley shook his head. With as much poise as someone who was telling the sworn truth, he said, “We were going into town to meet some other kids.”

           “Ah! I was wondering when you’d say that. Sure; just stay out of those woods! You might get bitten by a snake.” Mabel waved to them as she left for one of her exhibits.

           “Thanks, Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley ran outside. Stanford was quite to his heel. “Hey! Wait up!”

           “Keep up!” Stanford laughed. He ran straight through the trail to town. Once the Mystery Shack was out of sight, they turned into the cemetery. “Why are we here?”

          Stanley shrugged. “Maybe we could see a ghost or two.”

           “Ghosts? Oh! Or zombies? Like in the journal?” Stanford prompted. His feet sunk into the damp dirt of one of the graves. He recoiled and lifted his foot. “Ew.”

          Stanley laughed and about said something when he was cut off by the shuffling of feet. Standing before them, towering over the twins as he was a good foot taller than them, was a… teenage boy? However, his skin was pale and his hoodie torn in places. A branch sprouted from his hoodie. The two stopped laughing. Was _this_ what a zombie looked like?

          After about a full minute of silence, the teen held up a hand. “’Sup?”

           “Nothin’,” Stanley answered. “You?”

          The teen smiled. “Walking. What’s your name?”

           “Stanley!” Stanford glanced at Stanley and then the teen. This dude gave him bad vibes. Besides, what was he doing in a cemetery? He was all torn up and skulking around a cemetery- what if he was a zombie?

          Stanford’s eyes grew round as orbs. He leaned toward his brother and whispered, “Dude. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

          Stanley gave him a puzzled look and then looked to the teen. “Yeah, man! Hey! We were just explorin’. This is my bro, Stanford. What’s your name?”

           “Norm… an. Norman,” he stated. He glanced at the road. “So, you want to, uh, hang out or something?”

          Stanley looked at his brother. “What do you think, Bro?”

          Stanford bit his tongue. “Well, weren’t we going to go exploring?”

          Norman’s eyes flicked down to Stanford’s hand. Stanford instinctually hid them behind his back. His nearly black brown eyes flicked back up to meet Stanley’s. “Where are you exploring?”

           “The forest,” Stanley answered and then shrugged. “What? We were.”

           “I thought we were going into town, to meet people,” Stanford pointed out. Didn’t Stanley get it? Norman was a zombie! They couldn’t just _hang out_ with him!

          Norman smiled. “The woods? Do you believe in ghosts?”

          Stanford perked up. Alright, as much as he distrusted this guy, ghosts sounded pretty cool. “Yeah.”

           “I know this spot,” Norman said. “It’s outside the cemetery. Super haunted.”

           “ _Super_ haunted?” Stanley asked.

          Norman nodded. “Yeah. Wanna check it out?”

          Stanley turned his gaze on his brother. “What do _you_ think?”

          The first thing that came to Stanford’s mind was ‘no’. They just met this Norman guy. What if he was some sort of murderer or whatever? Their parents did warn them against strangers. But he’d never seen a ghost before. “I mean, is it right outside the cemetery?”

           “Real close. They can’t go too far from here. It’s like their souls are bound here for all eternity,” Norman stated.

           “Neat! Come on, let’s go!” Stanley took his brother’s wrist and then let go.

           “I-I mean, uh, as long as we stay close.” Stanford, just a few steps behind his brother, followed Norman to the edge of the cemetery. They crossed the tree line… they continued a bit deeper into the wood… they stopped.

          Norman looked about and then turned to the twins. “The ghosts here, they don’t like being disturbed. So, we gotta be quiet.” He nodded his head toward the trees next to them and crept through the brush. “The queen’s going to love two.”

           “The queen?” Stanley prompted.

           “Two?” Stanford asked.

          Norman stopped and turned to face them. The twins stopped. “I… I need to tell you something.”

           “What is it?” Stanley prompted. His muscles tensed. Stanford stared at Norman. What was he thinking?! Why’d they go with him? Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_

           “Don’t freak out, okay?” Norman asked. “Just… just be cool.” He put a hand on the zipper of his hoodie and pulled down. His fingers hooked under the flaps of the hoodie and pulled back. Then, everything fell off, leaving only five gnomes stacked on top of each other.

           “Is this too weird?” The gnome that stood as Norman’s head prompted. His voice was much clearer, now, and slightly higher pitched. “You need to sit down?”

          Stanley and Stanford said nothing.

           “Right, right, I’ll explain.” The gnome shook his head. “So.” He clapped his hands together. “We’re gnomes, first off. Get that one out of the way. I’m Jeff. And here we have Carson, Steve, Jason, and… I’m sorry, I always forget your name.”

          The gnome that had been Norman’s left leg croaked, “Shmebulock.”

          Jeff snapped his fingers. “Shmebulock! Yes! Anyways, long story short,” Jeff turned to the two boys. “Our queen is getting very old and weary- not too much longer here.”

           “Queen! Queen!” the gnomes squealed and pawed at the air with their tiny hands.

          Jeff nodded. “Now, as she spends the last of her time with us, she asks only for an offering. We saw you two goofing around here, plotting to go into our land. So, we thought we’d offer to take you with us. And, would ya look at that- turns out there were two of you! Too bad we only need one.”

          Stanley looked at Stanford. Stanford returned the look.

           “Yeah. So, what do you say? Will you join us and our gnome queen for all eternity?” Jeff prompted.

          Stanley huffed, “Uh, no. We ain’t goin’ to be some sacrifice for your weird gnome queen!”

          Jeff hung his head and sighed. “I understand. Well. We won’t forget you, Stanley.” He straightened up and smiled. “Because we’re going to kidnap you.”

           “What?”

           “Run!” Stanford yelped and took off. Stanley started to follow. However, Jeff tackled him, causing the boy to land on the ground with a hard _thump!_

           “Agk! Help!” Stanley yelled. “Let go a’ me!” He kicked one gnome square in the nose. The others overpowered him and dragged him into the forest.

           “Stanley!” Stanford darted after him. He took out his journal and flipped through it. “Weaknesses, weaknesses, weaknesses- unknown?! Weaknesses unknown?!”

           “Aw come on!” Stanley groaned.

          Stanford slipped his book into his jacket. A thought popped into his head. “Wait, wait!” You only need one of us!”

          The gnomes stopped running and looked back.

          Stanford waved at them with a small smile. “I’m one. And, uh, my bro’s probably going to keep attacking you.”

           “What are you doing?!” Stanley snapped. “Don’t! I can get out of this!”

          Jeff looked between the two boys. “You know, that isn’t a half bad idea.” He snapped his fingers. “We’ve got ourselves an offering, boys! To the cove! For our queen!”

          The gnomes screamed in joy and immediately dropped Stanley. Stanford followed the gnomes, stiff-legged and wide-eyed. Stanley got up on his feet and snarled, “YOU LET GO OF MY BROTHER!”

          Jeff growled and spun around, “Your brother made his choice! You–”

          Stanley yanked him up by the hat and drop-kicked him. The other gnomes hissed and shrieked.

           “Grrrr- get him!” Jeff barked, an arm over his stomach.

          Stanley grabbed his brother’s hand and raced off.

          Stanford, gasping, jumped and ran through any obstacle in their path. “Do you even know where we’re going?!”

           “Probably!” Stanley answered.

          Stanford looked back. The gnomes weren’t chasing them anymore. “Huh.”

           “They’re not runnin’ after us?” Stanley looked back. Indeed, the foliage stopped moving once the twins left it. No red or blue or white could be seen behind the greens and browns.

           “Nope.”

          Stanley laughed and slowed down. “Cowards!”

          Stanford tensed. “We should probably get out of here. They’re probably just slow.”

          Stanley shrugged. “Probably. Come on!”

          The two boys soon broke free of the forest and arrived on the road next to the graveyard. Stanley brushed off his clothes, as did Stanford. Thankfully, their clothes weren’t torn. Their shoes were pretty dirty, though.

          Stanley looked up. “Ya know, it’s still morning. You want to out to town or somethin’?”

          Stanford thought for a moment. “Hmm… yeah, I guess so. No more gnomes, though!”

           “No more gnomes.” Stanley nodded and changed their direction.

 

          Despite the town not offering them any of its secrets too easily, the two had fun. Stanley and Stanford stayed by each other’s sides. No matter where Stanley went, Stanford was quick to follow. No matter what Stanford did, Stanley was pretty much ready to do the same. It became very evident to the townspeople that if they saw one, the other was somewhere close- even if you couldn’t see him.

          By the time the twins got home, Grauntie Mabel had just gone outside to summon them to dinner.

 

          Stanford woke up. The night stars twinkled in the scarcely cloudy sky. A tentative breeze blew through their slightly open window. Stanley was fast asleep, one arm over his head and a foot poking out from beneath his blanket. What had woken him…? Stanford yawned and rolled over. Whatever. If that pig ate anything of his, he’ll worry over it in the morning.

          The bed shuffled beside him. Stanford opened his eyes and turned his head. “Waddles…?” A pair of bright, round eyes stared straight back at him. His little red hat turned silver in the moonlight. Stanford’s eyes grew round as moons. He opened his mouth to scream when a hand came down over it. Another one stuffed a bag in his face. AS his mouth was covered, Stanford was forced to breathe through his nose. The sparkly pink dust choked his lungs and burned his nose. Stanford relaxed and blinked his hazy eyes.

           “A deal’s a deal, Stan 2.”

 

          Stanford coughed up the fairy dust he’d inhaled- some of it, at least. At once point in time, Stanford would be really worried seeing glittered on his nose and shirt. The glitter didn’t worry him, now, however. He struggled to look about. Without his glasses, it was very difficult to see. Stanford struggled in the bonds that held him tight. Grass and moss shifted under him.

          Jeff stood on a rock nearby. Other gnomes scattered about. He could _feel_ them watching him. Despite not being able to see that well, he knew that eyes were everywhere. They were all on him. “Wh-what?” Stanford choked and then coughed. “Y-you! But we–”

           “Ran away?” Jeff prompted. “Yeah, you did. But the gnomes are a powerful race. We’re not to be trifled with! Our queen demands an offering and we will do whatever it takes to give it to her. Now, stop struggling, won’t you?”

          Stanford growled, “Yeah? You won’t get away with this, I know you won’t!”

           “Oh?” Jeff scoffed. “I’m guessing your sleeping brother is going to drop kick me again.”

           “Well, yeah,” Stanford stated. “It’s what he does.”

          Then, the heavy shrubbery shifted and tore as a vehicle ripped through it. A cart, blazing with vibrant colors, rocketed into the cove they were in. Stanford winced and tensed. Jeff howled and jumped out of the way. The cart stopped hardly a foot away from Stanford.

          Stanley leaped out of the cart, a shovel in his hand. “You leave my brother alone, creeps!” He smacked Jeff away and sliced through the strings that held Stanford down. The still-dizzy boy staggered to his feet and was very happily lead back to the cart.

           “He’s getting away with our offering!” Jeff barked. “No, no, no, no, _no!_ ”

           “Seatbelt, bro.” Stanley backed out, whipped around, and drove through the bumpy trail again.

          You’ve messed with the wrong creatures, boy,” Jeff growled and crawled atop a rock. He took a deep breath and shouted, “GNOMES OF THE FOREST! ASSEMBLE!” The forest was alive with creatures as gnomes popped out of everything and everywhere and scampered to their leader.

          Meanwhile, the boys had gotten some distance between them and the gnomes. In fact, they were back on a normal trail. Stanley looked back at the empty trail and laughed. “Ha-ha! We lost those tiny suckers! Good luck catchin’ up!”

          The ground shook. The cart slowed down. No sooner had the words left his mouth then a shadow fell over them. They looked back to a giant gnome-monster. It was mostly red, though they saw flecks of blue, white, beige, and brown in it. Jeff was at the very top. “Alright, teamwork, guys! Like we practiced!” The monster’s clawed hand rose up and then came rushing down.

           “Move, move!” Stanford hissed.

           “Moving!” Stanley pressed down on the gas pedal and urged the cart forward. The ground shuttered as dozens of gnomes hit the ground all at once and the hand exploded. The gnomes quickly reassembled so that the hand was fixed. The monster took off after them.

           “Come back with our offering!” Jeff shrieked.

           “He’s gettin’ closer!” Stanley gasped, watching the progressing gnome monster with wide eyes. The gnome monster threw his hand forward. A few gnomes dislodged themselves and flew at the cart, where they tore into it.

          Stanford punched the nearest one in the face to dislodge it from the canopy. When another lunged at Stanley, the driver snatched the fiend and hit him against the horn a few times.

           “Shmebulok,” the frizzled gnome groaned as Stanley threw him away.

          When Stanley turned back to the road, he came face-to-face with the last gnome on the cart, which lunged at him with a shrill cry. His tiny little claw-tipped fingers and wide feet latched onto Stanley’s face. Stanford wasted no time in punching the little thing and ripping it away from his brother.

          No sooner had that crisis gone then another was made. The gnome-monster tore a tree out of the ground and threw it. The pine tree soared over them and crashed into the road.

          The twins howled in fear as they barreled toward the obstacle. Stanley turned the wheel, hard. The cart turned and shuttered and began to swerve out of control as the tires lost traction. Some even lost the ground entirely as they moved. Stanley spotted one of the signs leading to the Mystery Shack. He didn’t hesitate to try to steer the nearly uncontrollable cart to the Shack.

          Then, he hit the brakes.

          Miraculously, the brakes still worked on the overexerted cart. Unfortunately, the brakes worked too well. The cart spun, tipped, crashed, and skidded to the wall of the Mystery Shack. Stanford and Stanley crawled away from the wreckage, wheezing and gasping. The shadow of the monster fell over them.

          The two scrambled out of the cart and backed up. Stanley pushed Stanford back and puffed out his chest. “You leave us alone!” He picked up a shovel by a pile of leaves and chucked it. The gnome monster punched it into the ground, utterly obliterating it. Stanley, beginning to lose his nerve, took a few steps back.

          Stanford turned his gaze on his brother. “Where’s Grauntie Mabel?”

          Stanley glanced back into the window. It was dark. She was still asleep in her room, she had to be.

          The monster closed in on them. Jeff stood at the top, eyes narrowed in anger. “It’s the end of the line, kids! Give yourself up, Stanford, before we do something crazy!”

          Stanley puffed out his chest and clenched his fists. “There’s something! Right? In that book? There’s gotta be–!”

           “No. I have to do this.” Stanford, now completely clear of the fairy dust, stepped around Stanley so that he faced the gnome monster.

           “Are you crazy?! No, we can do this!” Stanley denied.

           “I did this. So, I have to end it. Trust me.” He looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

           “I… okay.” Stanley took a few steps back.

          Stanford looked up at Jeff. “I’ll go with you. But you have to promise you won’t ever go after Stanley or anyone in this house.” He held out his hand. “Is it a deal?”

           “Hot dog! Help me down here, Steve.” Jeff left his post at the top of the gnome monster and climbed down. “Left hand, there we go. Watch those fingers, Mike!” Eventually, he escaped from the monster’s leg and ran forward to meet Stanford. He held out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

          Before Jeff could reach him, Stanford picked up a tool behind himself and whipped around so that the muzzle faced him. Jeff’s eyes went round in shock. Stanford flipped a switch. The leaf blower growled as it was activated and sucked in the leaves in front of it. “Oh no! Wait a minute!” Stanley and the gnomes gathered gasped in shock as they watched Jeff being sucked toward the leaf blower. “What’s going on?! Aaah!” Jeff was sucked feet-first into the leaf blower.

           “That’s for kidnapping me!” Stanford growled and cranked up the power on the leaf blower.

           “Ow! My face!”

           “This is for messing with my brother!” Stanford jerked his head toward the leaf blower. Stanley ran to his side and, hands held behind his back, watched the struggling gnome with a smirk. Stanford prompted, “Want to do the honors?” The gnome monster recoiled.

           “On three!” Stanley stated and set a hand on the leaf blower to help aim it.

           “One! Two! Three!” they chanted and yanked the lever down. Jeff shot out like a rocket leaving a trail of leaves behind him as he went. He tore through the center of the gnome monster, causing it to lose its integrity and fall apart.

           “I’ll get you kids for this!” Jeff screamed as he rocketed away.

          The gnomes rained down on the yard. “Who’s giving orders? I need orders!” “My arms are tired.” Various groaning and squeaking could be heard from others. However, once the leaf blower–now back to its normal power–was turned on to blow them away, they scampered off.

           “Anyone else want some?” Stanley called. Evidently not as the gnomes fled back into the forest as fast as their little bodies could manage.

          The twins sighed and, covered in leaves and bit of forest debris, walked back home. “Hey, bro!” Stanley called. Stanford stopped and looked back at him. “I’m, ah, sorry for not listenin’ to you, earlier.”

          Stanford waved his hand. “Aw, don’t be like that! You saved our butts back there!”

          Stanley sighed. “Guess I’m just bummed I didn’t even wake up. Waddles had to wake me up.”

           “Well… technically… I wasn’t awake either!” Stanford offered with a shrug.

           “Oh shut up!” Stanley laughed and then smiled. “High six?”

           “High six!” Stanford raised his hand as well to high-five each other.

          The two walked around and opened the back door as quietly as they could. The stairs creaked as they walked up to their room. After a bit of brushing off, the two collapsed in their respective beds.

 

           “Good morning!” Grauntie Mabel called.

           “Morning!” The boys called back, a yawn catching in their breaths.

           “So, you’ve been here a week,” Mabel stated. “I just thought- my, you boys look tired. You weren’t staying up late last night, were you?”

          Stanford shook his head. “N-no. We went to sleep.”

           “We just woke up,” Stanley replied. “What were you talking about?”

           “Oh! Right. Well, since you kids have bene working so hard, I thought I’d let you have something from the gift shop.” Mabel shrugged. “And pancakes! Go on, grab something.”

           “Really? Er- okay!” Stanley ran past the kitchen into the giftshop.

           “Thanks, Grauntie Mabel!” Stanford called back.

           “Oh! Thanks Grauntie Mabel,” Stanley agreed.

          The twins spread out to look through the gift shop. Stanley inspected a red and white striped shirt, like his own. However, unlike his own, it was not only free of holes and claw marks, but had a really cool marking sewn onto it like a badge. He slipped it on over his ruined shirt and looked in the mirror. He puffed out his chest and smirked. “Neat!”

          Stanford, on the other hand, was nowhere near the shirts, bobbles, or bookmarks. He gasped and dug through a box. From it, he pulled a–

          Mabel stated, “Crossbow. _I thought I got rid of those._ Uh, wouldn’t you like a bag or bookmark or something?”

           “Nope!” Stanford laughed and held up his new crossbow. “Ha-ha! Crossbow!”

          Mabel chuckled. “Fair enough.”

 

          Stanley bounced on his bed, laughing and punching invisible enemies. Stanford sat in his bed, scribbling on the blank pages of the journal in loopy, small handwriting. _“This journal told me that there was no one in Gravity Falls you could trust. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize that they’ve probably always got your back.”_

          Stanley stopped bouncing and flopped back into bed. His eyes shut before he even hit his pillow. Stanford chuckled as he watched his brother go from a hundred to zero in seconds.

          _“Grauntie Mabel told us there was nothing strange about this town, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?”_

          Downstairs, unknown to either of the brothers, Grauntie Mabel walked in through the giftshop. Yet she didn’t leave the shadowy shop to go into the well-lit hallway. Instead, she walked over to the vending machine. She tapped a few buttons in an order that she hardly cared to pay attention to. Yet, when she pressed a ‘C’ shaped pattern into the buttons, the inside of the vending machine lit up. The machine creaked open on hinges to reveal a secret passage. Grauntie Mabel glanced about the room one last time before entering the concrete hallway behind the vending machine and shutting it.

 

 **W** KHB’UH VWLOO ZDLWLQJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: In Journal 3, Stanford says: "Several tried to 'kidnap' me as an 'offering to the queen' as I was sleeping, but I just drop-kicked them out the window when I awoke. Unsettling." _three_ Too bad kid Stanford can't drop-kick anything yet.  
>  Fun Fact: Fairy Dust can knock a unicorn right out, _letters_ but only for a limited time.  
>  Fun Fact: I almost made the gnomes kidnap Stanford because they thought he was a girl.  
> Fun Fiction: I just made up that Fairy Dust can knock out people. _back_ Not actually a fact at all. I don't know if it works on humans.  
>  I wonder if Fairy Dust works on leprecorns?


	2. Legend of the Gobblewonker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the kids are _relatively_ settled in, Mabel decides that perhaps its time to have some family bonding time. But when the legendary aquatic dinosaur, the Gobblewonker, is spotted in the lake waters, Stanley and Stanford find themselves choosing between their great aunt and adventure. With they find themselves sailing over smooth waters, or find that not even the greatest navigation and hardest teamwork can save their ship?

          Merry morning light filtered into the kitchen of the old shack. The two boys, Stanley and Stanford, sat at the table, syrupy, pancake-flecked plates before them. The two held up two different syrup bottles.

          Stanley held a rounded bottle with the medieval styled words ‘Sir Syrup’ on the front and whose spout was in the shape of a man with a mustache. “Are you ready for the ultimate challenge?”

          Stanford raised his syrup container, except this one had a sterner face and a maple leaf on the front that read ‘Mountie Man’. “I’m always ready!”

           “You know what this means!”

           “Syrup race!” the both of them exclaimed, flipped the caps off of the bottles and held it above them.

           “Go Sir Syrup!”

           “Go Mountie Man!”

           “Go! Go! Go!” the twins chanted encouragement to the inanimate objects filled with syrup. The viscous liquid did not run like water, however. Stanley, impatient, tapped the end of it, which cause syrup to fall out.

           “Yeah! _Gack!_ I won! _Ack!”_ Stanley coughed as syrup got caught in his throat.

          Stanford put down his bottle and picked up the newspaper beside them. “Ooh! Stanley! Check this out!” He held out the newspaper for his brother to see.

           “Oh cool! Gold chains!” Stanley gasped. “They’d make me look so cool.”

           “No! I meant _this._ ” Stanford tapped on the other paper.

          On the top, “MOSTER PHOTO CONTEST” was written in bold letter. “WIN $1000” was in smaller letters. Sandwiched between that and the words “LAST MONTH’S WINNER” was a weird furry monster waving at the camera and a man waving with a camera around his neck.

           “We see weirder stuff than that every day!” Stanford pointed out. “If we got a camera, we could just walk outside and it’ll be ours!”

           “Good morning, you two!” The twins turned to see Grauntie Mabel walk out into the kitchen wearing, as usual, something completely different than the day prior: A blue shirt with a salmon wearing sunglasses. “Do you two know what day it is?”

          Stanley glanced at Stanford and then piped up, “Uh… happy anniversary?”

           “June 4th?” Stanford guessed.

           “Nope!” Mabel chuckled. “It’s family fun day! We’re cutting off work today and going out to have a family bonding day!”

          Stanford raised an eyebrow at her. “Is this going to be like the _last_ family bonding day we had?”

          Stanley shrugged. “Jumpin’ off a cliff was fun.”

           “We could’ve _died!”_

           “I had a grappling hook!” Grauntie Mabel defended. “I still have it! You know, I might not be the _best_ summer caretaker, but I promise you that today we’ll have some _real_ family fun. Now who wants to put on some blindfolds and get into my car?”

           “Yeah!” the kids, caught up in the excitement of their great aunt’s voice, responded immediately with lots of enthusiasm.

           “What?” Stanford lowered his hands as he processed what she had just said.

 

          The vibrant, ancient car screeched as it turned suddenly and then readjusted itself on the straight road. Stanford brought his legs up to his chest. “Oh, blindfolds are _never_ good.”

           “Unless there’s piñatas,” Stanley reminded him.

          The car jolted again. Stanford gripped the fuzzy leather seat with more force. “Er- Grauntie Mabel? Are _you_ wearing a blindfold?”

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “Nope! But with these cataracts, I might as well be. Eh, what’s that?”

          They screamed as they broke through a fence and off the road.

 

           “Okay! Take ‘em off!” Grauntie Mabel instructed. Stanley and Stanford, standing side by side in front of the injured car, took off their blindfolds. They blinked away the spots of sudden brightness. “Ta-da! It’s fishing season!” Mabel held in her hand a few fishing poles. A box of bait was by her foot. She bared her teeth in a brilliant smile.

           “Fishing season?” Stanley asked, his tone flat.

           “What are you talking about?” Stanford prompted.

           “You are going to _love_ it,” Mabel promised and lowered her fishing poles. She waved to the lake behind him. “The whole town’s out here!”

          Indeed, quite a few boats were out. “Lazy” Susan, the owner of the log-shaped diner in town, held out a pan along with a fishing pole. “Here fishy, fishy! Get into the pan!”

          On the dock, a man holding a salmon almost the length of his body, set one foot on a box of bait and posed for a camera held by Thompson Determined. “Say cheese!” The camera flashed. The man stumbled and the fish struggled. Both ended up falling into the lake.

          In a larger boat, “Tough Girl” Wendy sat with her three boys. All three of the red-heads wore yellow life preservers. Unlike her brothers, Wendy didn’t have a fishing pole. The taller of the three boys offered a fishing pole for her. “Will this do?”

           “No!” Wendy snapped and knelt by the edge of the boat. “I’ll show you how a _real_ Corduroy fishes!” After a moment of searching, she plunged her hand into the water and drew from it a fish, which she promptly tackled. Her boys cheered her on.

          A stranger standing in a boat nearby chanted, “Get ’im! Get ’im!”

           “That’s some quality family bonding!” Mabel stated with a grand smile.

          Stanley turned back to Mabel. “Grauntie Mabel? Why do you want to bond with us all of the sudden?”

           “Come on! This is going to be great!” Grauntie Mabel laughed. “Besides, you’re my nephews. I don’t see you in the winter.”

          Stanley glanced at Stanford. “I think she really wants to fish with us.”

           “Hey! I know what’ll cheer you sad puppies up!” She brought out a pair of shirt-sweaters and dropped them on their heads. Stanford took off his jacket and then put it back on once he was wearing the sweater. When they put them on, they looked at each other. Stanley’s shirt said, “Stan 1” while Stanford’s shirt said, “Stan 2”. “Pow! Pines family sweaters! It’s just going to be me, you two, and those cool sweaters for ten hours!”

           “Ten hours?” Stanford parroted. Okay, his polite nature could put up with a lot. Ten hours out on the lake, though…

           “I brought the joke book!” She brought out a book labeled “1001 Yuk ‘em ups! (Uncle Approved)”.

           “Oh no,” Stanford breathed.

           “We’ve got to get out of this!” Stanley hissed.

           “I SEEN IT!” the shout came from the docks. The patrons turned to watch the progression of an old, frizzle-haired woman. “I’VE SEEN IT AGAIN!” She took off down the docks and through the dirt ground. “THE GOBBLEWONKER! Come quick before it gets away!”

           “Hey! _Hey!_ ” The door of the lake-side shop opened. A man whose eyes were completely shadowed by a cap stormed out of his store, a spray bottle in his hand. Old Lady Chiu hopped back a few steps. “What did I tell you about scaring my customers?” he snapped and sprayed her with the bottle a few times. “This is your last warning, Mom!”

           “I’ve got proof this time, I swear!” she cried and ran to the docks. The crowd followed her. She stopped at the edge and pointed to a shattered boat. “Behold! It’s the Gobblywonker that done it!” She turned back to the crowd of people. “It had a long neck, like a giraffe! A-and wrinkly skin like that lady!” Mabel recoiled from the old lady. “It bit my boat in smithereens and swam on over to Scuttlebutt island!” She pointed to the foggy island in the center of the lake. She took her son’s arm. “You’ve gotta believe me!”

           “Attention all units,” one of the officers in a police boat nearby spoke in a voice loud enough for the crowd to hear. “We’ve got ourselves a crazy old woman.” This caused the rest of the crowd to laugh- all but Grauntie Mabel, Stanford, and Stanley. Chiu’s son shook his head and stalked off, leading the crowd away from the docks.

          Old Woman Chiu muttered a few old swears in a foreign language and waddled off.

           “Well, that happened.” Mabel watched them go for a few minutes before hopping into a boat tied up on the dock. “Now! Let’s untie this boat from the docks and go into the lake!”

           “Did you hear that?” Stanford gasped. “This could be our chance! If we find that Gobblewonker, we’ll _definitely_ win that contest! We can split the prize fifty-fifty!” He took out the newspaper.

           “Five hundred dollars. Ha-ha! Ford, I am one hundred percent behind you!” Stanley punched Stanford in the shoulder. Then, he walked over to their great aunt and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Grauntie Mabel! Change of plans. We’re taking that boat over to Scuttlebutt island and we’re going to find that Gobblewonker!” Immediately, he let go and chanted with Stanford, “Monster hunt! Monster hunt! Monster hunt!”

           “Monster hunt!” Old woman Chiu’s cracked voice appeared beside them. The twins’ voices died off and all three of the Pines stared at her. “Monster… I’ll go now.” She turned and waddled off again.

          Mabel shook her head. “We’re not about to go off on some ‘epic monster hunting adventure’ to chase legends! Oh. Hey, Fiddleford!”

          The two boys looked back to see the shy young mechanic walking up behind them. “Hey, Ms. Pines!” he waved to her and nearly dropped the box he was holding. He scrambled to gain a better hold on it before Stanford caught it. “Thanks, Stan…”

           “Ford,” Stanford replied. “So, what are you doing here?”

           “Oh! Yeah. I brought these.” He held up the box so that they could see it more easily. His arms were so full they blocked the black question mark on his greenish gray shirt. “FISH BAIT” was written on it. A bag was held up by a strap that ran over his shoulder and neck. “I, uh, heard about the Gobblewonker. I thought you two were going to go after it or something. I-if your boat can’t make it or somethin’, we could use my cousin’s.”

           “Now, let’s not get too hasty,” Grauntie Mabel stood up. “Now, you could go chasing after legends on some big monster hunt. _Or_ you could stay with me and learn how to tie knots and skewer fish!”

          Fiddleford, realizing that he was now standing between them, bit his lip and looked away from Mabel. Stanley, either not noticing or not caring, shrugged, “I mean, come on. Monster hunting.”

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, we’ll totally get that picture and we won’t have to worry about fishing!”

          With that, the twins raced down the dock and joined Fiddleford by his boat. The young mechanic jumped into his seat of the small motorboat and, clutching the wheel, took off. The pines twins took their seats in the remaining spot. Stanley howled their achievement and shoved Stanford, who laughed. Fiddleford glanced back at them in excitement and turned ahead again.

          Grauntie Mabel sighed and sat back down in her old boat.

           “Hoist the anchor!” Stanford called. Fiddleford and Stanley pulled up an algae-covered concrete block on a rope.

           “Raise the flag!” Stanford cried. Stanley pulled up a blanket and tied it to one of the poles that jutted up. It was mostly plain, though it did have the picture of the sun on it.

           “We’re going to find that Gobblewonker!” Stanley yelled.

           “We’re going to take that photo!” Stanford agreed.

           “Did you guys put on sunscreen?” Fiddleford prompted.

          The twins looked at each other. “We’re going to put on sunscreen!” The boat turned and raced back to shore.

 

          Stanford paced about the boat. He and Stanley now wore life vests as well. “Now, if we want to take this picture, we’ve got to do it _right._ Think: what’s the problem with most monster hunts?”

          Fiddleford piped up, “Um, you get eaten right away?”

          Stanford waved his hand like a level. “Not what I was going for, but that, too. So, we’ve got to be careful. But I’m talking about _camera trouble!_ Now, imagine you’re hunting… Bigfoot, right? You finally find him–Stanley, be Bigfoot–” Stanley nodded and took a step forward so that it looked like he was walking and set his arms down by his side. “There he is! Bigfoot!” Stanford pointed at his brother and then patted his chest. “Oh, no! No camera!” He pulled a camera from his jacket. “Oh, a camera! Oh no, no film. You get what I’m saying here?” Stanford put away his camera.

           “You have a point, there,” Fiddleford nodded.

           “Mhm,” Stanley agreed.

           “Now, that’s why I brought _seventeen_ disposable cameras!” Stanford picked up a bag lying on the floor close by and walked over to his brother and friend. “Two cameras in my socks,” he indicated his ankle, which had two cameras compressed to it. “Three in my jacket, and one in my sleeve. Four for each of you and three in this bag!” He held up his bag of three cameras and set eight down for Fiddleford and Stanley to take. “Now, let’s test out these cameras to see if they work.”

          Fiddleford tapped a button on the camera. Its flash went off. He yelped and dropped it. Luckily, it fell in the boat. Stanley took a picture of Stanford and then laughed at the face he made. “Try not to drop them, they’re disposable,” Stanford urged. Fiddleford picked up his camera and quickly stowed it away in one of the bags in his belt. “Okay. Stanley: you be look out! Fiddleford, you take the steering wheel. I’ll be captain.”

          Stanley huffed, “Why do you get to be captain? What about me? Why don’t _I_ be captain?”

           “I got the cameras,” Stanford pointed out. “And I’m organizing everything.”

           “How about… co-captain?” Stanley prompted.

           “There’s no such thing as co-captain.” Stanford stated.

          Stanley, a coy smile on his lips, plucked a camera from his bag and chucked it behind him. It landed with a small _sploosh_ in the water. “Whoops.”

           “Okay, fine! You can be co-captain.”

           “He got the boat,” Stanley pointed out and looked at Fiddleford. “Why doesn’t he get to be captain?”

           “Oh, it’s alright! I’m not the captainin’ type,” Fiddleford declined with a shake of his head. “I’ll steer, though!”

           “Okay,” Stanford piped up. “Now, we’re going to be using this bait to catch him.” He pointed to a barrel of fish bait. “But we’ll need to get in position at the island, first.”

          Stanley smirked. “I dare you to lick it.”

           “No way! That’s for the Gobblewonker,” Stanford denied.

           “Oh! Someone’s chicken!”

           “I’m not chicken!” Stanford squawked.

           “Chicken! Bo-gock!” Stanley teased.

           “Fine!” Stanford marched over to the fish bait, took one of the disk-shaped pieces, and licked it. He immediately dropped it and started gagging. “Oh God!” Stanley laughed and elbowed Fiddleford, who chuckled.

 

          Mist that surrounded the island fell over the water and writhed around the boat. Stanford put a hand over his eyes and squinted into the log-and-rock infested waters. Stanley leaned on the guardrail and surveyed the area before them.

          Fiddleford looked about with wide eyes, fingers turning white on the steering wheel. “Stanley? Do you see anything?”

           “Nothin’,” Stanley replied. “Oh, and you can call me Lee.”

           “Okay, Lee. Thanks.”

           “Wait! Land-ho!” Stanley yelled and pointed to the beach that was steadily getting closer. The boat shuttered as Fiddleford commanded it to slow down.

           “Where do I dock?” Fiddleford prompted. “There’s no dock around here!”

           “Just on the coast. We can walk.” Stanley shrugged.

           “Someplace shallow,” Stanford agreed.

          The boat came a stop just a few feet shy of the beach. Stanley threw the anchor down and laughed as water splashed on him. He, being the bravest of the three, jumped from the boat and onto the murky shore with a heavy splash. Stanford jumped in after him. Fiddleford followed close behind. Stanford took out a camera. Fiddleford held up a lantern. Stanley, too, held a camera. However, he seemed more interested in the woods than anything else.

           “SCUTTLEBUTT ISLAND” was written on a sign near the shore. “Beware” was on a smaller sign. Stanley, snickering, blocked “SCUTTLE” with his arm. “Hey, hey! Check it out. Butt Island!”

          Fiddleford gave him a nervous chuckle. Stanford didn’t laugh.

           “What’s wrong bro?” Stanley prompted. “You scared?”

           “I’m not _scared,_ ” Stanley huffed. “You just aren’t funny.”

           “You’re sca-ared~!” He poked his brother’s head.

           “No! I’m not!”

           “You are!” Stanley kept poking Stanford and blowing raspberries.

          However, they were stopped as a hard, gurgling _rooooaaaar_ shook them. Fiddleford dropped the lantern in an instant. Stanley stopped poking his brother and, instead, they looked about. A possum scurried over Fiddleford’s feet and snatched the lantern. “No!” Fiddleford gasped. “Our lantern!”

           “I can’t see a thing,” Stanford muttered as he attempted to look around the place.

           “Maybe this isn’t worth it,” Fiddleford tried, eyes darting about. “Maybe we should go home.”

           “Not worth it?” Stanley echoed. “But think! Fame and a thousand dollars, not to mention we’d get to see it! We’d get to prove to everyone–especially Grauntie Mabel–that these things do exist.”

           “Look, I believe ya,” Fiddleford confessed. “I’m always noticing strange things around these parts. If I know anything about these strange things, it’s that they’re _dangerous.”_

          Stanford looked to his brother. “You know… Fiddleford _is_ getting kind of scared. And, I’m up for some lunch. Why don’t we head back to the boat? Maybe it’ll be there! We can throw that bait into the water!”

          Stanley nodded. “Okay, sure. But if we don’t catch this thing, I’m blaming you guys.”

          Fiddleford sighed. “Oh good. Now… where’s the boat?”

          Currently, they were on a trail. They had been traveling on a trail. Thus, there were only two directions to pick from. Inevitably, Stanley and Stanford picked opposite directions.

           “It’s up here!” Stanley exclaimed, pointing up the trail.

           “Definitely not,” Stanford denied. “It was down here. The land slopes.”

           “Come on! We’re going to get even more lost. It’s up here!” Stanley urged.

           “If we go that way, we’ll reach the opposite end of the island.”

          Fiddleford took a deep breath, set his gaze, and raised his hand. “Okay, that’s enough! You guys can’t decide, so I decide. We’re going that way!” Fiddleford pointed in the direction Stanley had suggested. “Even if it’s not the way, we’ll know and come back. Just as long as we don’t wander off this here trail.”

          Stanford nodded. “Okay. Good enough for me.”

          As they walked, Stanley elbowed Fiddleford. “Nice talking, Fidds.” Stanford walked up beside Stanley.

           “Fidds?” Fiddleford prompted. Stanford could see a smile coming on despite the fear showing through his tense muscles and stiff walk.

           “Yeah. You’re name’s pretty long. Why? No one else call ya that?”

          Fiddleford turned his head and shook away. The mist around them hid the pinkish tinge in his cheeks. “Not really. No one really cool talks to me.”

           “People are weirdos,” Stanley huffed. “You’re cool to us, man.”

           “Thanks, Lee.” Fiddleford smiled and then laughed. “Hey! I called you Lee!”

           “Yeah! And not Ford!” Stanley laughed.

          Stanford piped up, “You wouldn’t believe how many times I get called Stanley.” He held up his hand. “Even if I’m literally shaking their hand.”

          Stanley looked about. “Hmm… you know what would make this better? Some music! Fidds! You know how to beat-box?”

           “N-no, not really.” Fiddleford shook his head. “I can play the banjo, though!”

           “I’ve never listened to the banjo,” Stanley admitted.

           “You could show us sometime,” Stanford suggested. And then looked at Stanley. He put his hand to his mouth and started off the “tune” of Stanford’s impromptu song.

           “My name is Stanley. It rhymes with manly. It also rhymes with… band-y. It also rhymes with key.”

          Fiddleford, completely calmed down, now, by the twins’ antics, laughed, “We should write that down!”

          The very air seemed to shake as the deep, gurgling roar from earlier washed over them. Birds took flight nearby.

          Stanley and Stanford perked up.

           “It’s him!” Stanford gasped.

           “It’s him!” Stanley agreed and punched his brother in the shoulder. Stanford hit him back and ran forward. Fiddleford, smile lost, picked up a sharp looking stick and ran to catch up with them.

          Then, from the misty water, came a hump-backed, long-necked creature whose toothy jaws opened. A snake tail filtered out of the water. The three dropped so that they were at a crouch. Stanford breathed, “Take out your cameras. When I say the word, run as fast as you can and take as many pictures as you can! If he attacks, we run. We just need _one_ good one.” Fiddleford and Stanley took out and gripped their cameras. “Okay. One… two… three!” Stanford pushed himself off the ground and ran for the shore. Flashing from the other cameras lit up their mist-cloaked path.

          When they stopped by the shore, their excitement fell away. Fiddleford put a hand to his chest. Before them was a shipwrecked boat covered in beavers. They squeaked and cuddled and a few fell off the boat.

           “Beavers?” Stanley wheezed.

           “Then, what made that roar?” Stanford prompted. “That was definitely a roar.”

          The gurgling, heavy roar sounded again. Nearby, a beaver chewed on a chainsaw. When the chainsaw was activated, it made the roaring noise.

          Stanford sighed and sat down. Fiddleford continued taking pictures of the beavers. Stanley looked around, the camera he held hardly in his hand. Stanford stared at his reflection. “What are we going to do? We ditched Mabel over _nothing._ ”

          The answer to his question came in a rumble. The water shuttered and his reflection broke. “Huh?” Stanford tipped his head and then yelped as the ground fell away at the edge and he fell waist-deep into water. Fiddleford and Stanley were very quick to help him up. A fin-tipped tail just as large as any of the children, rose up out of the water and slapped its surface before sinking again. They watched as the creature swam out and then slowly circled back. Its gargantuan body shifted through the water like a cross between a turtle and a snake. Stanford took a few pictures of the mostly submerged shape. When he noticed neither of the others were taking pictures, he turned his head back. “What’s wrong? Come on! He’s _right there!_ ”

           “He’s right there!” Fiddleford wheezed and took a few steps back. Stanley copied him. Stanley’s camera fell to the ground.

           “Come on! It’s not _that_ hard.” A head rose up stories tall behind Stanford.

           “Stanford!” Stanley hissed.

           “Ford!” Fiddleford whimpered.

           “Look, just turn, aim and shoot.” Stanford turned around and aimed his camera at the lake surface. However, a very thick neck blocked his view. He turned the camera up at such an angle his neck hurt just to see the creature’s glowing eyes and dripping jaw-fins and saber teeth. Both the top jaw and jutting bottom jaw were armed with sharp teeth longer than its head was tall.

          It shrieked louder and fiercer than any rusty chainsaw ever could.

          Stanford dropped his camera and raced to join his brother and friend as they fled.

          Then, the creature did something that none of them could have predicted. The aquatic creature surged up so that it’s front fins left the water, leaving only its back feet in the shallows. Then, the gargantuan creature lunged forward and broke down trees in its wake. Stanley shoved Stanford out of the way of a snapping pine tree. Both stumbled upon rocks or twigs. None of them looked back as the Gobblewonker, head curled back like a snake’s, waddled after them at a surprising speed. The creature lunged at them and snapped its head so close to Stanford, his vest nearly tore.

           “We’re leaving and never coming back!” Fiddleford cried.

          Without thinking, Stanford pulled out another camera and shot blindly behind him. In doing so, he took his eyes off the hardly visible path and tripped. He tumbled to the ground, losing his camera and his glasses at the same time. Stanley stopped in an instant and pulled his brother to his feet. Fiddleford, after making the saddest whimper Stanford had ever heard, turned back and grabbed Stanford’s glasses. He returned the Wayfarer glasses to their owner in seconds.

          The Gobblewonker lunged at them again. However, it missed. It was slowing down. The kids, land creatures by nature, outstripped the aquatic giant on land. However, the water would be a different story.

          Once they got in the boat, Fiddleford attacked the steering wheel. Stanley heaved up the anchor. Stanford got out his camera and held on as the boat spun around and rocketed off. “Cracked lens?! Ugh!” Stanford threw away the camera and attempted to pull one from his sock. Both of them had broken in the sprint. He threw them off and took out the one out of the bag next to him. By the time he looked up, the Gobblewonker was in the water. It was _definitely_ faster in the lake than it was on land.

          It reared its head and erupted from the water, though it could only get its front fins to top to lake’s surface before flopping down again. The giant wave that followed nearly capsized their boat. Fiddleford screamed as he tried to keep the boat steady. “I DON’T HAVE MY BOATING LICENSE! WHY DID I AGREE TO THIS?!”

           “You’re doing better than us!” Stanford pointed out.

           “Watch out for those people!” Stanley yelled.

           “Grauntie Mabel!?” Stanford’s eyes grew round as orbs as he spotted her, presumably arguing with someone in a boat nearby. Fiddleford drove straight between them. The Gobblewonker blew threw them. A giant wave caused both of the boats to get soaked. Fiddleford whipped around a bend into a straight through the island. The Gobblewonker somehow fit its entire body through. Its fins clipped the edges and sent rocks and dirt and anything else unlucky enough to get caught to dematerialize.

           “BEAVERS!” Stanford shouted and pointed ahead. Fiddleford turned the boat, causing a wave of water and mist to spray over the beavers and their shipwrecked home. The Gobblewonker’s massive head obliterated the nest and sent forth a good dozen of them. Stanley howled in surprise as one bowled him over. Stanford ducked. However, the claws of a passing beaver tore through his hair. Fiddleford hit his head on the steering wheel of his boat as a beaver hit him.

           “Fidds!” Stanford raced to his side and pulled him away from the wheel. Stanley removed the beaver from his head. “Fiddleford, I’ll take the wheel. You and Stanley throw out these beavers!”

           “Aye-aye!” Fiddleford, grimacing in a new ache in his head, ran off to join Stanley in getting rid of their unwanted passengers.

          Just when things couldn’t get worse, the Gobblewonker’s head disappeared under the water. After reducing the wind and surface lag, and becoming more aerodynamic, the Gobblewonker was on them in seconds. Boats around them capsized and shattered on the massive wave that followed the Gobblewonker’s head as well as those that were unfortunate enough to hit its wrinkly head.

          Stanford, unused to controlling a boat going a normal speed much less maximum speed through rough waters, could hardly control its direction. The Gobblewonker rose up and then crashed its head into the water beside them. Their boat flew off the wave like a skateboard on a ramp. The angle of the wave caused them to change directions. Instead of heading to the docks, they ran into a straight.

           “Turn back!” Stanley yelled.

           “We’re going to die!” Fiddleford cried.

           “We’re going straight through!” Stanford denied and hunched over the wheel. They barreled toward the waterfall at the end of the cliff. “I-I read about this, I think! There’s probably a cave behind this waterfall!”

           “PROBABLY?!” Stanley turned on his brother. A roar from the rapidly approaching monster behind them prevented him from going any farther into a stress-induced argument.

          The water of the falls stung through their faces. The boat snarled as Stanley tried to slow it down. Then, the boat hit land. The three were flung from the boat and tumbled onto solid, now soaked, land.

          Stanford groaned and put a hand to his head. Stanley shook himself off and got up. Fiddleford coughed and wheezed, unable to pull himself to his feet. A giant, fanged head emerged from the falls. It opened its mouth in a roar and lunged. Stanford looked up, wide-eyed, and stared into the creature’s glowing eyes. Then, it stopped. Its jaws snapped shut and its head jerked forward as momentum caught up to the once speeding creature. Stanley helped Fiddleford to his feet and took Stanford’s hand. Yet, the Gobblewonker did not go near them. It struggled and roared and thrashed about. It could go no further.

           “It’s stuck,” Stanford wheezed. “It’s stuck! It’s stuck!” His low voice turned into an exuberant cry. He patted his chest and legs and pockets. The bag of cameras was shattered on the ground nearby. Stanley set his very last camera into Stanford’s hand. They ran around to the side of the cave, where a cliff overlooked the shallow water and its prisoner. Immediately, Stanford got to work taking pictures. He jumped and laughed as the creature, unable to defend itself or run away, snapped and snarled at him and thrashed about.

           “Get any good ones?” Stanley prompted.

           “They’re all good ones!” Stanford laughed.

          Then, the creature’s head smacked the ceiling. A stalactite fell from the ceiling and impaled its head. The creature shuttered. Its eyes stopped glowing and sparks came from its ruined head. Its head flopped to the ground.

           “What the…?” Stanford muttered. Bones don’t clang like that. Flesh and skin doesn’t spark. There was no blood in the water despite having a pointed rock cut a jagged hole through its head. Stanford hopped down and walked onto its fin. When he touched its scaly hide, a cold shutter went through him. It was cold as ice.

           “What’s wrong?” Stanley called.

           “I don’t know.” Stanford climbed up the side of the creature.

           “Be careful!” Fiddleford cautioned.

           “I’ve got this! Hold on!” Stanford called back as he reached the top. When he did, he inspected the creature’s skin. His fingers touched a metal circle. “Hey guys!” Stanford yelled. “Come look at this!”

          Stanley hopped down the rocks. Fiddleford, still shaky on his legs, followed suit. Once the two boys joined him, Stanford rotated the wheel-hatch and opened it. Inside, they found a small room surrounded by control panels. Old Woman Chiu hastily fidgeted with the mechanisms around her. Once she found that she had been discovered, however, she stopped and looked up. “Aw oil polish.”

           “I-it was you?” Stanford gasped.

          Fiddleford croaked, “But why?”

          The old kook looked up at them, hesitated, and the gave a croaky sigh. “I just… I just wanted attention.”

           “I still don’t understand,” Stanford denied with a shake of his head.

          The old woman perked up. “Oh! Well, first I hootie-nannied a biomechanical brainwave generator. Then I learned to operate a stick shift with my elbow!”

           “Okay, yeah,” Stanley replied. “But _why_ did you do it?”

          Old Woman Chiu sighed and took off her hat. Her eyes gained a pitiful depression Stanford didn’t expect. “When you get to be an old gal like me, no one pays any attention to ya anymore. My own son hasn’t visited me in months. So, I figured maybe I’d catch his fancy with a fifteen-ton aquatic robot!” She laughed and then shrugged. “In retrospect, it seems a bit contrived. You just don’t know the length us old-timers go to for a little quality time with our family.”

          The twins looked down at their shirts. _Stan 1_ and _Stan 2_ were very carefully stitched into their soaked clothing.

           “So…” Fiddleford started. “Did you ever, uh, talk to your son? About how you felt?”

           “No, sir, I got straight onto work with the robot!” She clicked a button and picked up a gadget connected to the inside of the monster by a cord. A projector flicked on and sent an image on the opened hatch. It was of the Gobblewonker. “I’ve made lots of robots in my day.” It turned into a newspaper clipping showing a pterodactyl surrounded by flames. “Like when my husband left me and I build a homicidal pterodactyltron.” The image flicked to a woman with long brown hair and a pet lizard on her shoulder. “Or like when my pal didn’t come to my retirement party-” the image switched to a robot shooting a laser beam from its arm. “-and I contrasted an eighty-ton _shamebot_ that _exploded_ the entire down-town area!” She dropped the device and laughed again. This time, she cut herself sort. “Welp! Time to get workin’ on my death ray!” When she sunk into the monster again, drilling noises came in response. She held up her hand. “Any of you kids got a screwdriver?” Fiddleford put a hand on his belt, as if afraid the words would make something, probably a screwdriver, float magically out of his pocket.

           “Well, so much for the photo,” Stanford sighed and took out his camera filled with fake images.

           “We have one more roll left,” Stanley pointed out.

           “What do you think we should do with it?” Stanford prompted.

 

          Grauntie Mabel tugged her boat along the calm lake surface. As it was getting late, people started to leave. Fiddleford drove their boat, which was just about ready to die, up so that they matched Grauntie Mabel’s speed.

           “Hey!” Stanford called with a wave. The boats stopped. Stanford took a picture of her.

           “What the- kids?” Mabel’s gaze darkened. “I thought you two were off playing ghost-catcher with Fiddleford.”

           “Well, we spent all day trying to hunt down a legendary dinosaur,” Stanford admitted.

          Stanley continued, “But, we realized the only old dinosaur we want to be with, is right here!”

           “Aw save your sympathy,” Mabel huffed in a temper. “I’ve been having a great time without you two. I’ve been making friends, staring at my reflection, and cracking jokes!”

          Stanford shuffled his feet. “So, I’m guessing there’s not room for three more?” Stanford brushed off the sweater she made them. Stanley did the same and wrung out a bit of the water in it.

          Mabel’s forced grimace slowly died. “Have you kids ever seen me thread a hook with my eyes closed?”

           “Five bucks says you can’t do it!” Stanford challenged and hopped into the boat,

           “You’re on!” Grauntie Mable countered, eyes bright in enthusiasm.

           “Five more says you can’t do it with me yelling at the top of my lungs!” Stanley challenged and jumped into the boat. Fiddleford hopped in behind him. The old boat sank completely. Fiddleford bit his tongue as he watched it go.

           “I like those odds!”

           “Everyone!” Stanford called. “Get in for a picture!” They scrambled to get in next to each other and smile for the camera. “Say fishing!”

           “Fishing!”

 

          The rest of the day was spent together. Evidently, Mabel could tie about a dozen knots and thread all types of needles and hooks with her eyes closed. Fiddleford was good with catching fish. Stanford… wasn’t. Still, he managed to catch one. Stanley found himself to be good at cutting lines from other people’s hooks and nets to take their fish. This led to the inevitable lake police chase. Somehow, Mabel was great at evading them. Mabel red from her book of jokes, which caused Stanley and Fiddleford to laugh. Stanford groaned and crossed his arms.

          As the water turned red in the sunset, they boated back to the docks. Stanford’s grip on the camera loosened and it fell into the waves. He didn’t even look back. A bump caused the boat to creak and shutter.

           “What was that?” Stanford sat up. Fiddleford, who had been sleepily leaning on the edge of the boat, sat up straight.

          Stanley shrugged. “I don’t know.”

          Stanford relaxed again. “Probably nothing.”

          Underneath them, a creature that seemed to be a mix between a turtle, a snake, and a wingless dragon swam under the lake. It’s giant, saber-fanged jaws opened and shut around the sinking camera.

 

GRQ’W JR VZLPPLQT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd honestly love to hang out with Mabel. _three_ At least then I wouldn't get gobbled or wonkered! _letters_ Poor Old Woman Chiu. _back_ I hope she turns out alright...


	3. Head Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of the last few days, taking some time off to relax is welcome- even for young adventurers like Stanford and Stanley. However, the weirdness of Gravity Falls dislikes being ignored for long periods of time. Fiddleford makes the creepy discovery of an old Gravity Falls failed attraction. Will this pan out to be yet another dorky, fake attraction or is something more sinister going on behind curtains?

          The sun shone on the Mystery Shack as yet another day dawned. Sitting before the TV were the Pines twins. Stanford nibbled on a bowl of popcorn between him and Stanley. Stanley sat beside him and snuck bits of popcorn as well.

          Playing on the TV was a man standing beside a police box in a dank alley. A leg stuck out of the police box and two arms stuck out under it. A duck in a detective hat waddled up to the living person. “I’m afraid your services won’t be required here, sir. I’ve already examined the evidence and this is _obviously_ an accident.”

          The duck waddled up to him, quacking. The subtitles red: “Accident, constable? Or is it…” The duck turned to the camera and squawked, “ _murder?!_ ”

           “What?!” The constable gasped.

          A duck foot stamped on the screen and a green stripe ran under it. “DUCK-TECTIVE” was written slanted over the duck foot. The narrator stated, “Duck-tective will return after these messages.”

           “That duck is a genius!” Stanley gasped.

          Stanford crossed his arms. “Eh. It’s easier to find clues when you’re that close to the ground.”

          Stanley narrowed his eyes in skepticism. “Are you saying you could outwit Duck-tective?”

           “Stanley, I have _very_ keen powers of observation,” Stanford pointed out with a shrug. “We solve mysteries all the time, remember?”

          Fiddleford ran through the hallway and stopped by the door to the living room. “Hey, guys! You’ll never guess what I found!”

           “Buried treasure!” Stanford guessed in an instant.

           “Buried Tr- Hey! I was going to say that!” Stanley shoved Stanford, which caused them both to laugh.

           “Nope! Come on.” Fiddleford danced on his heels and, once the twins got up and followed him into the hallway, walked down past the stairs. “So, I was cleaning up and I found this secret door hidden behind the wallpaper.” He stopped beside a section of torn wallpaper with a doorknob in it. “It’s right creepy!” He put his hand on the door and, with a creek, pushed it open. Light from the hallway spilled into the room and lit up a whole room filled with wax figures.

           “Very creepy,” Stanford agreed.

           “Whoa!” Stanley gasped and pulled out a flashlight. “It’s full of wax people!”

           “They’re so lifelike!” Fiddleford put a hand on the leg of a detective.

           “Wait, this one’s different.” Stanford paused to look at one of the statues that did not glint in the light of his flashlight.

           “Hello!” Grauntie Mabel called. The kids yelled in fright as what they once thought was a wax figure came to life. Grauntie Mabel laughed. “It’s just me, your old Grauntie Mabel!”

          The kids sighed in relief.

          Grauntie Mabel flipped on a light switch and turned on a light. The entire room, dusty and old but filled with lifelike wax statues, blazed in artificial light. “Behold! The Gravity Falls wax museum! It used to be one of our most popular attractions… until I forgot about it.” She shrugged. “I made them all! Wax Genghis Khan, Wax Sherlock Holms, Wax Craz and Wax Xyler! And, my personal favorite, Wax Abe Lincon!” She waved her hands to an empty space beside the vibrantly colored boys. A puddle was beneath it. “Wha- oh no! Who left the window open? I’m looking at you, Wax John Wilks Booth!” She pointed at a wax figure off in the crowd. She sighed and knelt beside the melted wax. “How do you fix a wax statue?”

          Stanford piped up, “By making it into a new one?”

          Stanley smirked. “Cheer up, Grauntie Mabel! We’ll make you a new one from this old wax!”

           “You really think you can make one of these?” Mabel prompted.

          Stanley nodded. “Yep!”

           “Grauntie Mabel,” Stanford started. “We’re experts when it comes to fixing things.”

          Fiddleford raised an eyebrow at them. “You are?”

           “You know what? I like your gumption!” Grauntie Mabel smiled and gave them a curt nod.

           “I don’t know what that means,” Stanley replied. “But I’ll take it!”

 

          Stanley and Stanford stood before a large wax block. “Hmm…” Stanley muttered. “What do you think we should make?”

          Stanford, his notebook in hand, scribbled down ideas. “Well, we could always make it Abe Lincoln again.”

          Stanley brightened. “How about a werewolf?”

           “Ooooor something that Grauntie Mabel would like.”

           “A fairy princess?” Stanley guessed.

          Stanford shook his head. “How about… well, Grauntie Mabel made all of them herself, right?” he prompted. “So maybe we could… oh!” His eyes brightened and he scribbled something down. “A-ha! Look at this!”

           “How are we gunna do _that?_ ”

          Stanford bit his lip. “Um… YouTube videos. Lots and lots of YouTube videos.”

 

          Stanley and Stanford went to work. Chisels, knives, and even a hair drier were all in Grauntie Mabel’s possession and thus their tools. Stanley wielded a smart phone and played videos whenever they needed it. On occasion, Stanford would mess up and Stanley would use a hair drier to smooth the wax back over it. Once they’d carved out the shape, Fiddleford delivered paint for them.

          Stanford and Stanley took a few steps back to admire their work. Fiddleford joined them, eyes round in shock at their creation. “What do you think?” Stanley prompted

           “I think… it looks like a guy,” Stanford pointed out.

          Stanley shrugged. “It’s the best we could do! Does it need somethin’ extra?”

          Stanford bit his lip. “Hmm… Grauntie Mabel likes glitter.”

           “On it!” Fiddleford passed a paint bucket of glitter to Stanley. Stanley swung it back and then heaved the glitter onto the wax figure. Glitter covered the floor and wax figure.

           “Kids? Have you seen my shoes?” Grauntie Mabel called as she walked into the room. “I- Wha-?!” She gasped in surprised and took a few steps back.

          The twins immediately turned their attention to her. Stanford piped up, “What do you think?”

           “I think…” Grauntie Mabel’s smile returned. “…the Wax Museum is back in business!”

 

          A crowd had gathered around the side of the Mystery Shack. Grauntie Mabel stood up on stage, eyes bright and smile wide as she looked over the crowd. A crowd of wax figures stood near the back of the stage. Dan and Fiddleford manned the ticket booth. Stanley and Stanford stood beside the podium. Stanford had crossed his arms behind his back.

          Stanley whispered, “I can’t believe so many people came.”

          Stanford shrugged. “She probably bribed them somehow.”

          Stanley snickered. “Probably!”

          Grauntie Mabel picked up the microphone. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the grand re-opening of the wax museum! You may know me as town darling Mabel Pines! As you know, I’m known for bringing strange and wondrous novelties and befuddlements of the likes the world has never seen!” She set a hand on the cloth that was draped around the wax figure the twins had made. “But enough about me. Behold: me!” She tore off the cloth. A wax figure stood glimmering in the sunlight, one hand was held out with a thumb up. Although it resembled Mabel, it did look a bit boyish, so it could have been a guy version of Mabel. The crowd didn’t react too much to it. “And now, a word from the wonderful creators: Stanley and Stanford!”

          Grauntie Mabel handed the microphone to the closest of the two- Stanley. He took a few steps forward, which prompted Stanford to do the same. “Hello, everybody! Thank you for comin’. My brother and I built this sculpture with our own four hands!” He waved his free hand in a grand gesture toward his brother and the statue. “We’ll now be taking questions! You, there!” He pointed toward the back of the crowd. Old Woman Chiu stood up. Stanford’s eyes flicked to a bald, goggled fellow in the back. He ran into the forest and vanished.

           “Old Woman Chiu, local kook,” she introduced herself. “Are the wax figures alive and, follow-up question, can I survive the wax man uprising?”

          Stanley glanced at Stanford, who shrugged. Stanley turned back to the old lady. “Yes. Anyone else?”

           “Thompson Determined, Gravity Falls Gossiper,” Thompson, a portly fellow in the front row, held up a newspaper in his right hand and wielded a turkey baster in his left. His legs were crossed, bearing a shoe with a hole in it. “Do you really think this constitutes as a wonder of the world?”

           “Thompson,” Grauntie Mabel stated, “Your microphone is a turkey baster.”

           “It certainly is–”

           “Next question,” Grauntie Mabel called.

          A woman near the center of the crowd stood up, a mic in her hand. “Shandra Jimenez, a real reporter. Your flyer said that there was free pizza with admission to this event.” She held up a flyer with a picture of a pizza missing a slice. “FREE PIZZA*” was written in a speech bubble above it. In very small print were the words: “*with admission to the grand unveiling at the Mystery Shack.” The others in the crowd grumbled and growled in agreement.

          The Pines twins looked back at their great aunt. They could see Dan getting a bit worried, especially as his eyes fell on his mother. Fiddleford melted into his seat.

           “That was a typo,” Grauntie Mabel stated and then waved. “Well, good night everybody!” She chucked something on the ground. The twins had to scramble back a few feet to avoid being hit by glimmering pink smoke. They saw her zip by the ticket stand, grab the ticket box filled with money, and run around the back of the Mystery Shack.

          The crowd stood up and, spitting their displeasure, stalked off. A couple of people smashed or flipped a few chairs around them. “Tough Girl” Wendy punched a sign post with the flyer on it. The post cracked and buckled, though it did not fall. “In your face!”

          Stanley and Stanford rejoined their worried friends by the ticket stand. Stanley looked about. “Well, that went well.”

 

          Nighttime settled over Gravity Falls. Grauntie Mabel held up the freshly stacked and counted money in her hands. Wax Mabel leaned on the chair in front of the TV, flanked by the Pines twins. “Ha-ha!” she laughed. “Look at all this! I owe it all to one person. This gal!” she indicated the wax statue of herself.

          Stanley punched her side.

          She laughed and rubbed his head. “Okay, okay. You, too. Now, go wash up! We’re going to have a long day of fleecing rubes, tomorrow! Shoo!” She shooed the two kids out of the living room. She scooted the wax statue over and sat down. “Ah, kids,” she sighed and turned on the TV.

          The constable and Duck-tective stood on either side of a tied-up thief-dressed villain. “Well Duck-tective,” the constable stated. “It looks like you’ve really… _quacked_ the case!” He winked and pointed a finger gun at the duck.

          Duck-tective, unamused, quacked. “Don’t patronize me.”

           “Ha-ha! Silly duck,” Mabel chuckled and got up. “Well, I’m going to use the bathroom. Don’t you leave me, now!” She pointed at the wax figure before leaving.

          Upstairs, the twins were brushing their teeth in preparation for bed.

           “Toothbrush race?” Stanley suggested.

          The twins jumped as a scream came from downstairs. “No! NO! _NO!”_

          Once the boys were downstairs, they stopped at the door to the living room. Grauntie Mabel one hand on her mouth, pointed to the headless wax figure on the ground. “It’s Wax Mabel!” she gasped. “Sh-she’s been… _murdered!”_

 

          Red and blue lights flashed. Waddles, lazily eating a clump of grass, looked up. Two policeman were inside the living room, staring down at the headless wax figure. Grauntie Mabel, Stanford, and Stanley gathered around them as well. “So, I got up to use the bathroom and I came back and bam! She’s headless!”

          Stanford shook his head. “Who would do something like this?”

           “Your opinion, Sheriff Blubbs?” Deputy Durland asked, a pen and notebook in his hands.

          Sheriff Blubbs shook his head. “Look, we’ve got to face the facts. This case is unsolvable.” He took a sip from his coffee.

          _“What?!”_ The family gasped, causing the two police officers to bristle in surprise.

           “You take that back, Sheriff Blubbs!” Grauntie Mabel demanded.

           “You’re kidding right?” Stanford huffed. “I mean, there’s plenty of clues around here somewhere, right? You know, evidence, motives. We could help if you want!”

           “He’s really good!” Stanley put his hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “We’ve been solvin’ mysteries since forever!”

           “Let the boys help,” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “They’ve got brains in their heads.”

          Sheriff Blubbs elbowed Deputy Durland. “Oooh! Would’ya look at what we got here? A couple of city boys think they’re going to solve a mystery with their fancy ‘computer phones’.” Sheriff Blubbs waved his hands in front of him upon saying “computer phones”.

           “City boy! City booooy!” Deputy Durland howled in agreement.

           “You are adorable!” Sheriff Durland cooed with a demeaning smirk.

           “Adorable?” Stanford asked. He lost some of the air of excitement and shrink a bit.

          The police officers laughed. This caused both boys to glare at them. Sheriff Blubbs went on, “Listen, P.J.’s, how about you leave the investigating to the grownups, okay?” Sheriff Blubbs held his hand out by his hip. Durland slapped his hand in a low-five.

          Suddenly, a speaker on Sheriff Blubb’s shoulder hissed to life. “Attention, all units. Steve is about to fit an entire cantaloupe in his mouth. I repeat, an entire cantaloupe!”

          Durland gasped, “It’s a 23-16!”

          The two ran off, laughing.

          Stanford huffed, “That’s it! We’re going to solve this mystery! We’ll see who’s adorable, then.”

 

          The next morning, as the sun crested the horizon, the twins set off to work. They’d surrounded the place in toilet paper with the words “DO NOT CROSS” and “CRIME SCENE” written repeatedly on them. Stanley took multiple pictures of the headless wax statue and the shaggy carpet around it. Stanford looked at a board covered in photos of different people.

           “Wax Grauntie Mabel has lost her head and it is up to us to find it,” Stanford stated. He turned to the board covered in photographs. “There were a lot of unhappy customers at that unveiling. The murderer could have been _anyone._ In this town, anything is possible.”

          Stanley’s gaze fell to the carpet behind the seat. “Oh, hey! A clue!”

           “Huh?” Stanford turned around and approached the seat. Indeed, there were footsteps beside and behind the couch.

           “That’s weird,” Stanley remarked. “They have a hole in them.”

           “And they’re leading to…” Stanford followed the tracks around to the back of the seat. The twins gasped. Behind the seat was an _ax._

 

          Stanford, holding the ax, led Stanley into the gift shop. Currently, Fiddleford was on a ladder. He fiddled with a wire for a bit before replacing the section of roof he’d taken off. He put his tools back in his belt and climbed down.

           “Hey, Fidds!” Stanley greeted.

          Fiddleford turned around and gasped when he saw the ax. “What the–?”

          Stanford offered the weapon to Fiddleford. “We found it behind the seat- near where Wax Grauntie Mabel had been decapitated. Do you know anything about this?”

          Fiddleford took the weapon and looked it over. “Hmm… it’s an ax,” he stated. “I don’t know much about them. But, uh… this one chops wood, I reckon.”

           “Chops wood…” Stanley muttered and then gasped. “The lumberjack!”

           “She was _furious_ when she didn’t get that free pizza!” Stanford agreed.

           “Furious enough for murder!”

          Fiddleford returned the ax to Stanford. “You mean ‘Tough Girl’ Wendy, right? She sometimes hangs out at this really intense biker joint downtown.”

           “Then I know where we’re going!” Stanley stated with a firm nod.

          Fiddleford chuckled. “Solvin’ mysteries all the time, trackin’ crimes- you two are like the Mystery Twins!”

           “Don’t call us that,” Stanford stated flatly. Stanley snickered.

          Fiddleford shrugged. “Okay, Ford. Good luck!” With that, he moved to a different area of the Shack.

 

          The twins went downtown in search of the murderer. Stanford stopped beside a dumpster in the alley. The ax stuck out of his backpack. Stanley waited on top of the dumpster. Around the corner, a very tall, very buff man stood at the entrance of the biker’s joint. Tattoos ran everywhere across his dark skin. The white t-shirt he wore did almost nothing. His nose piercings glinted in the light. Above him, an electronic sign head a skull and then one half of a skull on either side. The lights would alternate between the skull and the two halves. “SKULL” was illuminated in red letters above it, while “FRACTURE” was below it.

           “Got the fake IDs?” Stanford breathed. Stanley nodded. He hopped down from the dumpster. The both of them walked down the street with the confidence of fully grown detectives.

          The bouncer examined an ID given to him. With a brief shake of his head, he returned it. “I’m sorry. We don’t serve miners.”

           “Dag nabbit!” The man before them, dirty and wearing orange with a pick-ax in hand, spat on the side-walk and hobbled away.

          Stanley and Stanford presented the ID’s. Stanley stated, “We’re here to look into the murder of Wax Mabel.” The bouncer inspected these IDs. They were far from professionally done. The sideburns Stanford had and the mustache Stanley wore were drawn in permanent marker. “Dr. Dexter: 30” was written on Stanford’s ID. “Sir Leeford: 35” was written on Stanley’s ID. Some of the glue was still either wet or now peeling.

          The bouncer shrugged and returned the IDs. “Works for me. Go on in.” He pushed open the door with one hand to allow the children inside.

          The biker joint itself was very messy. There were people everywhere. The smallest could’ve been bigger than Stanford and Stanley put together. Stanford winced as one guy was knocked flat. They had to step over his fire-toed boots to cross the room.

           “Alright,” Stanford stated. “Let’s just try to blend in, okay?”

           “Already on it, bro.” Stanley nodded his head sharply and jumped onto the bar stool nearby. Across the room, they found the lumberjack in an arm wrestling machine. “CAN YOU BEAT BICEPTIKUS?” was written on the side. Wendy’s elbow was on the machine while her hand forced the machine’s down.

           “‘Tough Girl’ Wendy!” Stanford greeted as he strolled up to her. “Just the woman I wanted to see. What were you doing last night?”

          Her gaze flicked to him. Despite her distraction, the machine still red ‘9999’. “Punching the clock,” she stated in a tight voice.

           “So, you were at work?” Stanford prompted.

           “ _No._ I was punching that clock!” She pointed outside at the mangled pole with a square, broken clock on the top.

           “Ten o’clock. The time of the murder.” Stanford turned back to Wendy. “So, I’m guessing you’ve never seen…” he whipped out the ax in his bag, “THIS before?”

           “Listen little kid,” Wendy stated and pointed at that ax. “I wouldn’t even pick my teeth with that ax. That’s left-handed. I only use my right hand!” She ripped the arm right off the machine and slapped it across the face a few times.

           “Get ‘im!” the guy from the boat who had been cheering on Wendy, Tyler, appeared near her. “Get ‘im!”

           “Left-handed, huh?” Stanford looked over the ax and put it back in his backpack. He raced over to his brother.

           “…and we destroyed him!” Stanley boasted to another bar patron. “That lake monster didn’t stand a chance.”

          The skeptical patron narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? I bet you don’t have a tooth to prove it.”

           “Stanley! Big break in the case!” Stanford interrupted. “Come on!”

           “Cool!” Stanley jumped off the bar stool and darted after him.

 

          Stanford pulled out his checklist as they walked down the street. “The culprit is left-handed,” he explained. “So, all we’ve got to do is find the person who’s left handed and we’ve got our killer!”

           “Yeah, man! We are on _fire_ today!” Stanley laughed.

           “Let’s go find that murderer.” Stanford raised his fist. Stanley fist-bumped him.

          From then on, their investigations included only ways to determine whether one was left or right handed. While Stanford waved at Old Woman Chiu and she waved back with her right hand, Stanley threw a ball at one of the angry ladies at their reveal. She caught it with her right hand and squeezed it to uselessness. Stanford put on a mustache and pretended to be a mailman. The “Free Pizza” shirt guy used his right hand to sign it. Stanford took back the empty box. Once, they arrived at the doorstep of a man whose arms–both of them–were in a cast. They decided he wasn’t a suspect.

          Eventually, they got down to one last person. “Stanley! There’s only one person left!”

          Stanley looked at his checklist. “Of course! It all makes sense!”

 

          Dusk fell over Gravity Falls. A siren wailed as a police car, holding Sheriff Blubbs, Deputy Durland, and the Pines twins, arrived at the tiny building labeled “Gravity Falls Gossiper” stuck between two others.

          The sheriff and deputy got on either side of the door, both wielding their match sticks. Sheriff Blubbs turned to the children beside him. “You better be right about this or you’ll _never_ hear the end of it.”

          Stanford shook his head. “The evidence is irrefutable.”

          Stanley smirked. “Very irrefutable.”

           “Ah get to use my match stick!” Deputy Durland giggled and hopped from foot to foot.

           “Ready? Ready little fella?” Sheriff Blubbs prompted and held up his match stick. They tapped each other a few times and muffled laughs of excitement before Sheriff Blubbs raised his hand.

           “One, two…” Stanford whispered. Deputy Durland raised his foot. “Three!” Deputy Durland kicked in the door with an accomplished cry.

           “Nobody move!” Sheriff Blubbs commanded. “This is a raid!”

          Thompson Determined yelped in fear and fell off his chair. “What is this? Some kind of raid?!”

          Deputy Durland whacked a lamp with his match stick. It shattered on the floor.

          Stanford, Stanley at his side, stalked over to Thompson. “Thompson Determined! You’re under arrest for the murder of the wax body of Mabel!”

           “You have the right to remain impressed,” Stanley boasted, “with our awesome detective work.” He raised his hand for a high-six and Stanford matched him.

           “I-I don’t understand!” Thompson denied, hands held close and standing up slightly bent over.

           “Let me explain,” Stanford started. “You were hoping that Grauntie Mabel’s new attraction would save your sinking paper. But when it was a flop, you decided to make your own headline.” Stanley held up a newer edition of the Gravity Falls Gossiper. It had a picture of Wax Mabel’s bodiless head. “But you were sloppy! All clues pointed toward a shabby shoe reporter who was caught left handed.”

           “Thompson Determined, you are yesterday’s news.” Stanley crumpled up the paper and threw it over his own shoulder.

           “Why, your knees must be sore!” Thompson responded, his fear melting away in an instant. “From jumping to conclusions! I had nothing to do with that murder.”

           “I knew i- what?” Stanford lost his smile.

          Stanley’s smug smirk left him as well. “What?”

           “Did you say you didn’t?”

           “Could you repeat?”

          Sheriff Blubbs, mood unwavering as if not surprised at all, stated, “Then where were you on the night of the break-in?”

          Thompson bared his teeth and looked away. “Eeeh…”

          Thompson showed them his security monitor and put in a tape from last night. Once rewound to “10:00 p.m.” he let go of the buttons.

          On screen, Thompson was alone in his office. He opened a cabinet and took out a life-size, cardboard cutout of Shandra Jimenez. “Finally, we’re alone, cardboard cutout of Shandra Jimenez!”

           “Ew!” The boys, and Deputy Durland, recoiled from the screen as Thompson began making out with the cardboard figure.

           “Well, the time-stamp confirmed it.” Sheriff Blubbs turned to Thompson. “Thompson, you’re off the hook. You freak of nature.”

           “Hooray!”

           “No! It has to be him!” Stanford denied. “Check the ax for fingerprints!”

          Sheriff Blubbs dusted off the handle of the weapon while Deputy Durland shone a black light over it. “No prints at all.”

           “No prints?” Stanford put a hand to his head. _What?_

           “Hey, Ah’ve got a headline for ya!” Deputy Durland suggested and waved his hands. “‘City Boys Waste Everyone’s Time’!” The adults laughed. Stanford and Stanley backed off from their determined stances, embarrassment now causing them to lose eye contact with the police officers.

           “Boy,” Thompson huffed as he stood in front of the still-playing video of him making out with the cardboard figure. “I’d be pretty embarrassed if I were you two.”

 

          The wax figure room had been mostly cleared out. Rows of chairs with a lane through the middle filled up the room. Each chair held something. Most of them held wax statues. Three seats in the front, however, were filled by three living children.

           “Fiddleford, kids, lifeless wax statues,” Grauntie Mabel began with a sigh. “Thank you for coming. I know some may say having a funeral for a wax figure of yourself is wrong, but they matter.” She turned her gaze to the headless wax figure. “I hope your knitting sweaters in wax heaven.” Her eyes glittered with tears and she shook her head. “I’m sorry! I got glitter in my eye!” With that, she ran off.

           “Oh no! Ms. Pines!” Fiddleford jumped up and ran after her.

          Stanford sighed and shook his head. “They were right about me.”

           “Ford, we’ve come so far,” Stanley denied, his grip tightening on the ax. “We can’t give up now!”

          Stanford stood up. “But I considered everything!” He walked up to the coffin holding the headless wax figure of their Great Aunt Mabel. “The weapon. The motive. The clues! Ugh.” He sighed. His gaze traveled down to her foot, which had a hole in it. “Wax Mabel’s shoe has a hole in it.”

           “Oh, yeah,” Stanley agreed. “All of the wax figures do. It’s where the pole things attach their feet to those stand things.”

           “Wait a minute. What has holes in its shoes and no fingerprints?” His eyes grew round in shock as the missing pieces of the mystery clicked together in his head. “Stanley! The murderers are–”

           “–right behind you!” The boys spun around to face the source of the noise. Wax Sherlock Holmes stood up straight and stared down at them. The other wax figures stretched and moved and groaned and got up as well.

          Stanford backed up until he was up against the coffin. Stanley raised his ax and slid one foot back. Wax Lizzie Bordon snatched her weapon away from Stanley. He jumped and took a few steps back. However, he still stayed relatively in front of Stanford and stayed in a hard stance.

          Wax Sherlock Holmes strolled up to the boys until he was an arm’s length away from them. “Congratulations, my two amateur sleuths, you have unburied the truth, and now we're going to bury you. You've discovered our little secret.” Wax Holmes took out Wax Mabel’s head from under his coat. “Applaud, everyone, applaud sarcastically.”

          The wax figures clapped.

           “Uh, no. That sounds too sincere. Slower,” Wax Holmes commanded. The wax figures slowed down their clapping. “There. Nice and condescending.”

           “But how?” Stanford burst out. “You’re made of wax!”

           “Are you… magic?” Stanley asked.

          Wax Holmes laughed. “Are we magic? The boy asks if we’re magic! Ha-ha! NO!” His laughter stopped abruptly. “We are _cursed.”_ He straightened himself out. “Your aunt made us. She bought our wax at a haunted garage sale. She created us whenever the moon was waxing. Apparently, that irony is too great for her to resist. So, we are cursed to come to life whenever the moon is waxing. And so, the Mystery Shack Wax Collection was born. By day, we would be the playthings of man.” His tone took a disguisted turn.

          Wax Coolio pipped up, “But when your aunt went to sleep, we would rule da night.”

          Wax Holmes nodded, “It was a charmed life for us cursed beings...” His gaze hardened. “That is, until your aunt closed up shop. We've been waiting ten years to get our revenge on Mabel for locking us away... But we got the wrong girl.”

          Stanford gasped, “You were trying to kill Grauntie Mabel _for real?_ ”

           “You’re right, Ford!” Stanley shook his head. “Wax figures _are_ creepy!”

           “Well,” Wax Holmes stated. “Now that you know our secret, you must _die.”_ Wax Sherlock’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. All of the other figures followed suit.

           “Oh no,” Stanley breathed. “What do we do?”

          The twins backed away until they hit the table by the coffin. Paper towels, two electric candles, silverware, dishes with food, and a coffee maker full of hot cocoa dressed it. Stanford chucked a few knives and forks at the advancing wax figures. They laughed off the weak attacks. Finally, Stanford chucked the coffee maker full of steaming hot cocoa. Genghis Khan screamed as the hot cocoa melted most of his face and parts of his chest, arms, and hands as the cocoa splattered.

           “That’s it!” Stanford exclaimed. “Heat! They melt in the heat!” The twins snatched the electric candles from the table and pointed it at the wax figures. They stopped advancing.

           “Don’t take another step forward or we’ll turn you into candles!” Stanley threatened.

           “ _Decorative_ candles,” Stanford agreed with a dark smirk.

          Wax Holmes scoffed, “You really think you can defeat us?”

           “Definitely!” Stanley answered at once.

           “No problem,” Stanford agreed, though his eyes still flicked from wax person to person.

           “So be it,” Wax Holmes growled and then commanded, “Attack!”

          Wax Lizzie Bordon swung her ax. Stanley ducked. Her ax dipped down, missed Stanley, and ended up slicing off Wax Elf’s head. Stanley tore across her shoulder, chest, and down to her hip with his candle. She ended up falling to the ground in two pieces. When Wax Shakespeare charged him, Stanley sliced off his arms. Although the playwright ran away, his hands had a mind of their own and one started strangling Stanley. He dropped his candle and smashed Wax Shakespeare’s finger in the nearest door.

          Stanford, presented with Wax Craz, raised his candle. Wax Craz swiped at him. However, once he got too close, Stanford was able to cut his candle straight through Wax Craz’s neck. Wax Craz cried out in surprise and staggered back. “My neck! Uncool, bro!”

          A hand grabbed the candle as if to take it away. The wax figure yelled and backed away as his hand melted. Stanford whipped around and swung. His candle burned through Wax Groucho Max’s midsection. Stanford took a step back so he was in front of the fire place. “Jokes on you, this time!”

           “I’ve heard of cutting remarks, but this is ridiculous!” the wax figure laughed as his upper body slid off his lower body. “Hey, why isn’t there anything in my hand?” His body fell apart.

          Stanford hardly had a chance to take a breath before Wax Genghis Kahn charged him. Stanford ran out of the way as the wax Mongol emperor lunged at him. The massive wax figure hurtled himself into the fireplace, where he promptly melted.

           “Ha-ha!” Stanford laughed. “Looks like you fell harder than the…  Qin Dynasty!” He jumped up to rejoin the fight.

          It seemed that Stanley had his part under control. Wielding the decapitated head of Wax Xyler, he flung it around himself like a mace on a chain, effectively knocking down the surrounding wax figures. “Ow! Ow! _Ow!_ Not rad, bro!”

          Stanley’s gaze turned on Stanford. “Ford! Behind you!”

          Stanford cut off the leg of Wax Richard Nixon’s leg and whipped around to see Wax Sherlock Holmes approaching him. Stanford raised his candle.

           “Let’s get this taken care of.” Wax Holmes stuck Wax Mabel’s head on the horn of a rhino head, took his sword from the wall, and swung it at Stanford. His candle was knocked out of his hand. The electric candle shattered upon hitting the ground.

          Stanley grabbed a red-tipped poker from the fireplace and chucked it at his brother. Stanford grabbed it and held it up to Wax Holmes. Wax Holmes swung down. His sword caught on the forked end of the poker. Stanford stumbled back as the force of the blow nearly ripped the poker out from his hands. When Stanley went to charge Wax Holmes from behind, he was intercepted by armless Wax Shakespeare.

          Wax Holmes relentlessly swung at Stanford, causing him to back off. Eventually, their fight was taken to the attic.

          The poker, cool from lack of a heat source, became unsteady in his hands and couldn’t block Wax Holme’s attacks very well. Soon, Stanford was cornered. “Once your family is out of the way, we’ll rule the night once more!” Wax Holmes announced, not an ounce of exhaustion in is words.

          Stanford, on the other hand, was starting to lose focus. He couldn’t beat this wax man! Stanford’d sooner get skewered than find any way to melt him. Light of the waxing moon and very early dawn filtered through the red window. He ducked under Wax Holme’s legs and ran out the window. “Don’t count on it!” he called as he ran onto the sill.

           “Come back here, you little brat!” Wax Holmes snapped and jumped through the window as well.

          Stanford scrambled up the roof and onto the sign that held the red wooden words “SHACK”. He turned around to face Wax Holmes and, backing up with each hit, deflected the wax detective’s swings. Finally, Wax Holmes took the sword in both hands and tore down. Stanford stepped back to avoid being torn in half. The “S” in Shack shuttered and fell off.

           “You _really_ think you can outwit me, boy?” Wax Holmes prompted. “I’m Sherlock bleeding Holmes!” Stanford glanced up at the sign reading “MYSTERY”. “Have you _seen_ my magnifying glass?” Stanford dropped the poker and jumped up onto the rim of the sign. Wax Holmes gave chase. “It’s enormous!”

          Stanford dropped off the other side of the roof and landed on the shabby-shingled roof. Shingles broke out from underneath of him so that he slid down the roof until he could grab onto the piece of roof that jutted out next to the chimney. Gasping, Stanford pressed himself up against the chimney. He chanced a peek behind it. Wax Holmes was not there. He wasn’t climbing the “MYSTERY” sign and the shingles weren’t breaking under his wax feet. He sighed in relief and turned around. He couldn’t even process what he saw before Wax Holmes struck him in the chest and stomach as hard as he could with his foot. Stanford went sprawling on the other end of the flat part of the roof.

           “Any last words?” Wax Holmes asked as he raised his sword high.

          Stanford glanced at the pink horizon. It was getting lighter. “U-um, you have any sunscreen?” _Of all the remarks, sunscreen?_

          Wax Sherlock Holmes about asked what he meant when wax dripped on his face and shoulders. He looked up. The sun’s life-giving rays melted his hands. He immediately dropped the sword and lowered his hands. Wax Holmes stared at the horizon with a blank expression. “No.”

           “You know, letting me lead you up here wasn’t the smartest thing you could’ve done,” Stanford pointed out with a wheezy smirk. Ah, his stomach didn’t feel too good. Next time, he should probably avoid that particular attack.

           “Outsmarted by a boy in shorts!” Wax Holmes groaned. The sun melted him more and more.

           “Case closed.” Stanford clapped his hands together to rid them of dust.

           “Nooo!” Wax Holmes’s body deteriorated and lost shape. “Fiddlesticks! Humbugs! Tiiter, total kerfuffle! Butter hallabaloo!” His face slid off the roof and splatted on the ground.

           “Ew.”

 

          Stanley chucked mangled, melting body parts into the fireplace. Wax Shakespear’s head cried, “Though our group be left in twain, the wax shall rise agayn!” His words muffled and fell apart as he was chucked in the fireplace.

           “Ford!” Stanley cried as his brother walked into the room. “You’re okay!”

           “Yeah!” Stanford righted a chair underneath the rhino head and retrieved Wax Mabel’s head. “Glad we solved _that_ mystery in one piece!”

           “Too bad these guys didn’t,” Stanley snickered.

          Grauntie Mabel walked into the room just then. “Hot Belgium Waffles!” she gasped. Stanford turned around so that Wax Mabel’s head was behind his back. “What happened to my parlor?”

          Stanford glanced at Stanley. “Your wax figures turned out to be evil,” Stanley explained. “So, we fought them to the death.”

          Stanford nodded. “I decapitated Craz.”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head, though she couldn’t suppress a smile. “You have such big imaginations.”

          Stanford smiled. “You know, it’s not all bad news.” He brought out Wax Mabel’s head. “We solved the case!”

           “My head!” Mabel cried and held it in front of her. “Aw, I missed this gal. You kids done good. Come here for some free hugs!”

           “Ah, you know,” Stanley started.

           “I don’t know…” Stanford agreed.

           “Get over here!” Mabel wrapped her arms around them and ruffled their hair, causing the two to duck and laugh.

          A police siren _Woooop’d_ once outside. They stood up to see Sheriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland outside. Sheriff Blubbs held a hot cup of coffee in his hand. “Solved the case yet, boy?” Sheriff Blubbs taunted. “I’m so confident you’re gonna say no, that I’m gonna take a long, slow sip from my cup of coffee.” He took a long, slow sip from his coffee.

          Stanley smirked. Stanford held up Wax Mabel’s head. “Actually, the answer is: yes.”

           “Wh-wh-what-?!” Sheriff Blubbs spit out his coffee.

           “My eyes!” Deputy Durland screamed. His hand accidently flipped Sheriff Blubb’s cup so that hot coffee spilled onto his face.

           “It burns!” Sheriff Blubbs cried and sped off. The police vehicle crashed somewhere out of sight. The three laughed in their victory and the ironic fall of the police officers.

          Stanford turned to his brother. “So, did you get rid of all the wax?”

           “I’m ninety-nine percent sure I did!” Stanley answered.

           “Good enough for me!”

          In the vent some way off, two brightly colored heads pressed together. Craz and Xyler watched the union from behind bars. The two laughed in their own deceitful victory.

 

W **K** HB **D** UH LQ WKH YHQWV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitten _three_ sneezes not included. _letters_ Also, Stanford is kinda adorable. I think that he _back_ and Stanley will solve mysterious like professionals despite this.


	4. The Hand that Rocks the Mabel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stan twins thought that the Mystery Shack would be the only tourist trap to rob the citizens of Gravity Falls of their money. But when a new trap rolls into town gleaming with the smiles of a father and son, the Mystery Shack begins to feel the competition. Yet,is this the healthy competition of two people in the shop, or something more dark and sinister...?

          The early day’s sun shone over the valley. Birds sang and children played. Grauntie Mabel stood outside, a cloth bag stamped with a question mark in her hand. She held it out for a group of tourists. “Behold! The bag of mystery! You put your money in, and it _mysteriously_ disappears!”

          The group ooh’d and stuffed bills or coins inside the bag. “Well of course!” “Wow!” “That makes total sense!” “That was totally worth the drive!”

 

          Inside, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford watched TV together. _“The tiger was badly injured in the explosion,”_ said the narrator. _“But we repaired him…”_ The TV showed a tiger inside of a hospital room. A thick-muscled arm erupted from his neck with a fist at the end. “ _…with a fist!”_ A _bong_ sounded as the TV flicked to a black-and-orange striped title scene with “TIGER FIST!” written on an orange action splatter.

          The children cheered and whooped as the tiger was introduced.

          The scene changed back to the tiger. This time, the fist punched the tiger in the face, causing it to jump. “TIGER FIST!” logo appeared on an orange background again, this time with small words at the bottom. “WILL RETURN AFTER THESE IMPORTANT MESSAGES…”

           “ _Tiger Fist will return after these important messages…_ ” said the narrator.

           “Oh, look!” Fiddleford perked up. “It’s that commercial I was telling you guys about!” A pair of small hands rose up from the bottom of the blue screen with mountains. A half dozen doves, cooing, fluttered out of the pair of hands.

          _“Are you completely miserable?”_ the narrator prompted, his voice tinged with a folksy accent.

          The screen panned to a man crying in his bed. “Ah-huh- Yes!”

          _“Then you need to meet…”_ The screen changed to blue with a silhouette of a man with poofy hair and a question mark in the center. “GIDEON” was written below. A voice whispered, _“Gideon~!”_

           “Gideon?” Stanford prompted.

           “What makes _him_ so special?” Stanley asked.

          _“He’s a psychic!”_ the narrator exclaimed. The screen changed to a picture of the outhouse just outside the Mystery Shack. Stanford put a hand to his head as Grauntie Mabel, definitely not in her working suit and fez, walked out. The screen stopped on a weird freeze-frame. _“So, don’t you waste your time with so called ‘Matriarchs of Mystery’.”_ “[FRAUD]” stamped diagonally across the screen in bold red.

          The screen changed to a colorful-pointed star with an eye in the middle. _“So, learn about tomorrow, today!”_ The screen panned out to show a silky, light blue tent with a half-moon crest on it. _“At Gideon and Bud’s Tent of Telepathy!”_ A screen of warnings zipped past in a voice so quick they really couldn’t pick out anything.

           “Huh,” Stanley huffed. “I’m gettin’ curious about this.”

          Grauntie Mabel stalked into the living room. “Yeah? Well don’t get too curious.” She slipped off her jacket and hung it up. “Ever since that _Gideon_ came around, he’s been nothing but trouble.” She scowled at the TV, as if it had wronged her as well.

           “Is he really psychic?” Stanford asked.

           “Maybe we can go find out!” Stanley jumped to his feet.

           “No!” Grauntie Mabel snapped. “Absolutely not! As long as you live here, you will _not_ be allowed under that monster’s roof.”

          Stanford glanced at his brother. “Do tents have roofs?”

          Stanley smiled, “I think we just found our first loophole.”

          _“So, come on down! We’re expectin’ ya,”_ the television went on.

 

          Dusk fell over the valley. A crowd gathered at the Tent of Telepathy. Stanford, hands stuck in his jacket pocket and gaze flicking about the crowd, strode between his brother and best friend. Stanley’s walk was, as usual, loose. He looked about him as if the world bowed to him, not the other way around. Fiddleford hunched over. “Look… Ms. Pines probably had a reason not to let us come here.”

           “Look, just one show,” Stanley compromised. “Just to, you know, check out the competition. Then we can see for ourselves how much of a fraud they are.”

          Stanford nodded. “Besides! I’d like to see this psychic. Can’t be any better than Mom, right?”

          Stanley raised an eyebrow at him. Stanford shrugged. Fiddleford tipped his head. “Your Mom’s a psychic?”

          The brothers nodded. “Yeah, a phone psychic,” the answered at the same time.

          As they approached the tent, a large man with a poof of silver hair on his head held out a bag. His kind eyes met the gaze of each person that approached the tent. A bowtie with a half-moon, aquamarine pendant on it reflected his eyes. “Step right up, people! Put your money in Gideon’s Psychic Sack!” He held up a blue sack with the Tent of Telepathy sign on it. Stanley and Stanford passed it up. Fiddleford hurriedly put in a few dollars. Gideon’s gaze followed them inside. However, despite the lack of donation on the twins’ part, he didn’t seem the list bit angry.

          Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford sat down in the second row, near the middle. Stanford looked about the airy place. It was, like everything else, a nice baby blue. Natural evening air circulated through the cloth tent. The high roof gave them room, but the smooth, sagging walls without corners restricted them. It wasn’t a bad restriction, though. It was like the blanket caving in on a pillow fort- restricting, but comfortable.

           “Wow,” Stanford breathed. “It’s like some sort of weird Mystery Shack. Hey! They even have their own repair dude!” He tipped his head toward the other side of the room. An aging man walked across the skirt of the tent, a belt of tools around his waist and a toolkit in one hand. “Soos” was written on his nametag.

          Fiddleford eyes the tools he held. “He could do better.”

          The lights around the tent dimmed. One spotlight attached to the pole in the center of the tent blazed. Stanford immediately turned his attention to the stage. “Let’s see who this Gideon monster is, anyway.”

          A shadow fell over the curtains as a figure approached it. The curtains shuttered and drew, revealing a plain stage and a young boy- no older than ten. His brown hair was combed back and blue suit very well washed. A bowtie with an aquamarine half-moon pendant on it was pinned to his suit. It was almost exactly like Gideon’s, though the half-moon was flipped. Although he wore a bright smile and stood up straight and tall, his eyes flicked back and forth across the crowd and his smile almost looked forced. He clapped his hands, which made his little blue cape shutter. A few doves fluttered out from behind him. “Hello, America! I’m Little Bud!”

          _“That’s_ Mabel’s mortal enemy?” Stanford prompted.

           “But… he’s tiny!” Stanley pointed out.

          Fiddleford shook his head. “She said Gideon, though.”

           “Ladies and gentlemen, it is such a _gift_ to have you all here tonight!” Bud’s voice was loud and clear, though he shared the folksy accent the narrator had. “Now, I had a vision! I predict that all of you will soon say: ‘d’awww!’”

          He turned around and struck a cute little pose. Indeed, the crowd cooed over the performance. Bud was a cute little guy, after all. How old was he? Ten?

           “It came true!” Fiddleford pointed out with wide eyes.

           “I’m not impressed.” Stanford shrugged.

          Bud looked to the other side of the stage. “Hit it, Dad!”

          Gideon Gleeful sat at the piano. His soft blue eyes turned on his kid and, with a smile that gushed “you’re doing marvelous, son!” put his fingers to the piano and began to play.

          Bud walked about the stage. “Oh, I can see what others cannot see! It’s not some side-show trick, it’s an innate ability!” He waved his hands and then brushed his fingers under his eyes. “Where others are blind, I am futurely inclined!” he sang with a dance before putting on a little pose. “You could see, too, if you was little ol’ me!” He laughed and, one hand on his chest, raised his other hand. “Come on, everybody! Rise up! I want ya’ll to keep it going!”

          The entire crowd stood up and clapped to the beat. Stanford looked about as he stood up. “Huh? How’d he–?”

           “Keep it going!” he announced and then pointed to an elderly lady near the front. Her cats stayed on her lap or feet. “You wish your son would call you more~!”

           “I’m leaving everything to my cats!” the old lady agreed, a fist in the air.

           “I sense that you’ve been here befo-o-ore~!” Gideon waved his hands and looked to Sheriff Blubbs, who wore any and every piece of Lil’ Gideon and Bud merchandise available for sale.

           “What gave it away?” Sheriff Blubbs asked with a small chuckle.

           “Oh, come on,” Stanford grumbled.

          Bud hopped off stage and stopped beside Stanley. “To read your mind is my aim!” His bright aquamarine eyes looked over the two of them. The crowd clapped along to the song. “Something tells me, you two share a name!”

          Stanley’s eyes grew round. “How’d he know?”

          Stanford watched the boy go back to the stage. _How_ did _he know that?_

          Bud hopped onto stage. “So, welcome all ye... to the Tent of Telepathy!” He danced in a small circle and opened his arms wide. “And thanks for visiting... little ol' me!” He took a breath and pulled out a water bottle. As the crowd cheered him, he took a drink and put it away. “Thank you for coming! You all are the _real_ miracles!”

          Stanford, hands in his jacket again, followed Stanley and Fiddleford outside. “That kid’s a bigger fake that Grauntie Mabel! No wonder she doesn’t like him.”

          Stanley shook his head. “Well that song was pretty catchy.”

           “You’re too easily impressed!” Stanford teased.

          Stanley shoved Stanford. “Nu-uh!” The two boys laughed as they walked with each other. Fiddleford ran off to his own home. Bud peaked around the corner of the tent. His bright eyes watched them leave.

 

          Stanford studied the journal. He scribbled down some symbols from the book onto a notepad. His phone, dull from waiting too long, was beside him. Stanley ran up to his brother and the notebook. “What’cha got so far?”

          Stanford scribbled down the last of the symbols for that page. “I’m having a bit of trouble, but things are starting to make more sense. It’s big paragraphs like these I’m having the most trouble with.” He gestured to the page he was decoding. ‘A Bit of History’ was written at the top right of the first page with a drawn picture of the Gravity Falls Library beside it. Starting one quarter of the way up and reaching down to the end of the next page was a timeline. A seven-line paragraph of symbols was at the bottom of the page. “It’s so exciting! I can’t wait to get it all down!”

          Stanley looked over the page. “Hmm… well, the dinosaurs look kind of cool.”

          The doorbell rang.

          Grauntie Mabel called, “One of you get the door, please!”

           “Not it!” Stanford and Stanley said at the same time. Stanford tapped the journal. “Still de-coding it.”

          Stanley wrinkled his nose at him and ran to the door. When he opened it, it was empty- at first. Little Bud stood at the door, bright eyes staring up at Stanley. “Oh!” Stanley smiled. “Hey! It’s little ol’ you!”

          Bud nodded with a small chuckle. “My song’s kinda catchy, innit? Umm, I know we really _haven’t_ met, but… after last night’s show, I _wanted_ to meet you.”

           “You wanted to meet us?” Stanley asked and raised an eyebrow.

          Bud nodded. “Yeah! I, know this sounds kind of strange, but…” he lowered his voice. “My daddy think your aunt doesn’t like us and that you hate us, too! So, I thought I’d come over here and ask why.”

          Stanley waved his hand. “Pssh. That’s lame. We don’t hate you. I mean, our aunt’s kinda weird about your dad, though.”

           “Oh good!” Bud perked up. “You know, I take you for the kinda person that likes the adventurous things in life.”

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

          Grauntie Mabel called, “Who’s at the door?”

          Stanley quickly called back, “No one!”

          Bud glanced behind him and smiled. “Thank you for your discretion. I find it funny how such a sour look can be related to such an open mind.”

          Stanley shrugged. “She’s just actin’ weird is all.”

           “Even so…” Bud took a deep breath and smiled. “I was wonderin’ if we could hang out a bit. I’m kinda new around these parts so I don’t know too many kids.”

           “I’m new, too,” Stanley replied. “I’m just visitin’ Grauntie Mabel for the summer.”

           “Oh! Well then, we can learn more about the town together!” Bud gasped and then hesitated. “I-I mean, if ya want to.”

          Stanley looked behind himself. “Well… let me go talk to my bro. Maybe we can all go out and do somethin’ together!”

           “Okay! Thank you. I’ll wait here.” Bud wrapped his arms behind his back and rocked on his heels.

          Stanley turned and ran into the living room, the door still ajar. “Hey, bro!”

           “Hey, Stanley,” Stanford replied, his voice a mumble in his distraction.

           “Bud and I are going to hang out around town. Do you want to come?”

           “Bud? As in ‘Little Bud’?” Stanford turned his head back to give him an incredulous look.

           “Yeah,” Stanley replied. “He’s been lookin’ around for a new friend. Thought I ought to join him.”

          Stanford shook his head. “Look, Stanley. This is kinda a bad idea. You know who is father is and how Grauntie Mabel thinks of him.”

           “He’s just a kid! I’m sure he’s not his dad,” Stanley complained.

          Stanford sighed and looked back to his book. “Why don’t you go hang out with him without me? I’m still translating.”

           “Okay. Whatever you say.” Stanley turned and ran out the door.

           “What did your brother say?” Bud prompted.

          Stanley shook his head. “He ain’t comin’. Where do you want to go?”

           “To the arcade!” Bud replied with a swift nod. “That should be fun!”

 

          A few hours later, Stanley strolled into the living room only to find his brother in the same place he was hours ago. Stanford took a deep breath, sighed, and put away his things. “That is good enough for today.”

           “Hey, bro!” Stanley called.

          Stanford turned around. “Oh! Hey! How’d it go?”

           “We hit the arcade,” Stanley answered with a shrug. “And we went and checked out that old used car place for a while. You know, normal stuff. Bud’s a pretty cool guy!”

           “I don’t think you should keep hanging around him,” Stanley pointed out bluntly. “His dad is probably someone we wouldn’t want to be around. If Grauntie Mabel found you, she’d throw a fit!”

           “Oh, don’t attack him!” Stanley huffed. “Besides, you never do fun stuff with me anymore! You and Fidds do nerd stuff all the time.”

           “What do you mean?” Stanford prompted, losing his blunt coolness in the wake of defense.

          Fiddleford ran into the room just then, clutching a board game. “Hey, Stanford! I found a really old chess set! Want to play?”

           “Do I!” Stanford followed Fiddleford to the table Stanford had been sitting in previously.

 

          Stanley sat with Bud on top of the warehouse, eyes scanning the town. The midday sun lit up the valley and its contents. “Whoa!” Stanley breathed and laughed. “Everything’s so tiny from up here!”

          Bud nodded enthusiastically. “It’s like everyone’s just a bunch of ants.”

          Stanley squinted his eyes. “Ugh. Too bad I can’t see anything.”

          Bud took out a pair of binoculars and offered them to Stanley. “I brought some binoculars for us to use!”

           “Cool! Thanks!” Stanley took the pair of binoculars given to him and looked over the town. Bud did the same. “Woooow. I’ve never had a view like this before,” he breathed.

           “My dad sometimes takes me up here,” Bud informed him. “He talks about how it makes him feel like the king of the world. That I was his prince.”

           “I thought you said you were new here.” Stanley lowered his binoculars and looked down at him.

          Bud lowered his binoculars and bit his lip. “W-well…” he took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m not. I was born here, and so was my father. He traveled around a bit, but our home was here. I’m sorry.” He looked up at Stanley with round eyes. He hooked one foot under the other. “I-I just thought that since your great aunt hated my dad, that ya wouldn’t want to hang out with me.”

          Stanley frowned. “Man, I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that kinda guy. I didn’t know I looked like one.” He looked away from Bud and to the town.

           “N-no! You don’t!” Bud gasped and then bit his tongue. “You’re a real nice guy! I’m sorry.” He stared down at his lap. “…you can keep the binoculars if you want.”

           “Huh?” Stanley looked down at him.

           “If your leaving.” Bud’s voice turned into a mumble. “I know I would. I’m sorry.”

          Stanley sighed. “Look, man… I don’t hate you. Just… I don’t like it when people lie, ya know?”

          Bud nodded. “I understand.” A smile crept up on his features and he looked up at Stanley. “So, friends?”

           “Yeah, dude!” He punched Bud in the shoulder and laughed. He turned to the town again. “Want to play I Spy?”

           “Okay!”

 

          Stanford, Fiddleford, and Dan hung out in the gift shop. Dan looked over his magazine. Fiddleford and Stanford read a book together. They jumped as Grauntie Mabel, a foreign look of disgust and anger, stalked into the gift shop. She held up the newspaper in her hands so that everyone got a clear view of it. “What the jackal is my great nephew doing that idiot’s son?”

          Dan looked up from his magazine to look at the newspaper. A picture of Bud and Stanley, both talking happily, printed on the front of it. “Oh, yeah. Everyone’s talking about them. Bud got a new friend or whatever.”

           “ _What?!_ ” Grauntie Mabel hissed and crumpled up the newspaper in his grip. “That little shyster is trying to steal my great nephew? Oh-ho no!” She threw the paper on the ground and stalked off.

           “I told him not too!” Stanford called after him. “’sides, he’s a kid.”

          Grauntie Mabel, after hardly a minute, stalked back into the gift shop. She was dressed up in her pink suit with shooting-star fez. “I am going to that skunk’s house and putting an end to this, _now._ ” She slammed the door behind her, causing them to wince.

           “Oh no,” Fiddleford groaned. “We shouldn’t have gone to that show!”

 

          Grauntie Mabel’s car stopped in front of a perfect-lawn house. It was so close to hitting a trash can out front, the bumper tapped it. She got out of the car, stalking through the white-picket gate, and stopped before his door. “Please Pardon the Garden!” a sign on the door said.

           “I will pardon nothing!” she snapped and tore off the sign. She rang the doorbell and knocked on the door. “Open up you little rat!”

          A pair of footsteps ran through the house. The door opened. The white-haired, blue-suited father of Bud stood at the door. Gideon’s long hair swept back at the head so tall it was nearly as large as his head. “Mabel!” he cooed. “Such a delight! May I treat you to–?”

           “Can it!” Grauntie Mabel hissed and put a finger to his chest. “What is your look-alike doing with my great nephew?”

          Gideon held up his hands, his smile unwavering. “Oh, didn’t you hear? They’re great friends. Surely you wouldn’t–”

           “You know what I’d do!” Grauntie Mabel growled. “After everything you’ve done, you can’t stand here acting innocent! I wouldn’t trust _anything_ that came from you.”

          Gideon shook his head. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Peach Du–”

           “Don’t call me that,” Grauntie Mabel cut him off.

          He nodded. “Right, right. I’m sorry you feel that way, Mabel, I really am. But I’m a changed man, ya’see! I got myself a son and a new house.”

           “I will _never_ forget what you did, Gideon, and I will never forgive you. I don’t care how much you’ve ‘changed’, you’re still a little monster,” she denied.

          Gideon sighed. “I was afraid ya’d say that. Pumpk- Mabel, I’m not a foe! I’m here for you! Look, my little boy is absolutely ecstatic to have a new friend. He’s leavin’ after the summer, anyway. Why don’t you let them have it for a while longer? It’s not fair to restrict those boys on _our_ past, now is it?”

          Grauntie Mabel lost a bit of her anger. She growl-sighed. “Fine. But if I find even a scratch on my great nephew, you will _not_ like it. Understand?”

           “Of course, Sweet-heart,” Gideon cooed. “Do you want to have a cup of tea while you’re here? I have a batch heatin’ up right now.”

           “No.” With that, Grauntie Mabel turned and stalked off.

 

          Stanley sat down on the couch near Fiddleford and Stanford, who now red a mystery book together. “Heya!”

          The two looked up at him. Stanford piped up, “Grauntie Mabel’s going to kill you, you know.”

           “It’s all over the paper,” Fiddleford agreed. “And social media!”

          Stanley waved his hand. “Come on! It can’t be that bad! Plus, he’s a kid. She’ll understand.”

          Fiddleford and Stanford looked at each other, both expressions grim, before they turned back to him. Fiddleford shook his head. “I don’t know, Lee. She seemed really upset.”

           “She should be home any minute,” Stanford commented. “We’ll find out then, right?”

          Stanley leaned back on his seat. “Totally!”

          Fiddleford piped up, “So, what did you two do?”

           “We went up to his warehouse,” Stanford replied with a shrug. “Looked over the town, played a few games. I got a cool new set of binoculars.”

          Stanford looked down at his book, and then stood up. Fiddleford book-marked and shut the book. “Hey, bro? I was thinking of practicing with my new crossbow. Do you want to help?”

          Stanford sat up. “Sure thing!”

           “You and Fidds go outside; I’ll get my crossbow.” Stanford raced upstairs. About a minute after Fiddleford and Stanley left, Stanford heard the front door open. Grauntie Mabel grumbled to herself as she walked. Stanford picked up his crossbow and ammo and sighed. Oh, Stanley. Of all the people you had to mess with…

 

          The next day, someone knocked on the door. Stanford emptied a bolt into a target out back. “Who’s there?”

          Stanley stood up from his place on the back-porch couch. “I’ll get it!” With that, he was gone.

          Fiddleford looked back at the house. “Where’s Ms. Pines?”

           “Business call.” Stanford shot another bolt. This one was closer to the target. “I thought she told you that.”

           “She’s not in the house,” Fiddleford pointed out. “Usually she stays in her room.”

           “Maybe we’re making too much noise,” Stanford offered. “And she was just too polite to say anything. Or she just went out to town.”

          Stanley ran around the outside of the house and stopped by them. In his shadow was Bud. “Hey, Ford! Fidds! Remember Bud?”

           “Yeah.” Stanford lowered his crossbow. “Hey, Bud!”

          Bud waved at them, though his smile was a bit more strained under nervousness. “Hello, Ford! Fiddleford! I came over to ask if you all wanted to go out?”

           “Where?” Stanford prompted.

           “My old warehouse- there’s a very nice view from there,” Bud informed them.

          Fiddleford shifted from foot to foot. “I don’t know… I mean, I don’t like the sound of that.”

           “It’s _fine,_ ” Stanley promised them. “I was there, remember? I told ya all about it!”

           “Ah, right.” Stanford nodded. “Why now, all of the sudden?”

          Bud piped up, “Oh! Well, I kind of wanted to invite ya’ll over a while ago, but ya’ll were busy. I’m not saying you aren’t busy now, I was, uh, just wonderin’ if you wanted to go now. Ya don’t have to. I was just wanting to show you some of the things around there. We’ve got some really cool stuffed animals and clothes…” his eyes rested on the crossbow. “We’ve even got a few shears and stuff. If you take them apart, they’re like swords. They’re really fun to sword fight with! Dad said I could give you somethin’. So, what do ya say?”

          Stanley elbowed his brother. “Come on!”

          Stanford nodded. “Alright. I’ll come with. Let me just clean this up first.”

           “You want to come with, Fidds?” Stanley asked.

          Fiddleford gave a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll make sure, uh, the cart doesn’t break on the way there.”

           “Sweet!”

 

          They arrived at 214 Gopher Road near to sunset. The warehouse stood big and tall on the cliffside. Bud led them in through the front doors. They looked about with round eyes. There were boxes _everywhere._ From small boxes of dolls to large ones with lamb shears, both stories were full of merchandise.

           “This is all yours?” Fiddleford asked.

          Bud nodded. “Well, it’s my dad’s, really.”

           “But you’re up on stage,” Stanley pointed out.

          Bud shuffled his feet. “Yeah. But I’m ten. Oh! Stanley!” He turned to the boy. “I, uh, left my binoculars on the roof. Do you want to come with me while your brothers look around?”

          Fiddleford looked away so that he didn’t see his smile at being called their brother. Stanley tipped his head. “Why can’t I bring them?”

           “Oh! Well… I just thought they’d like to look around a bit more is all.” Bud flashed him a wide smile and tipped his head.

           “Uh… okay. Be back in a bit!” Stanley waved to them and followed Bud up a ladder. “So,” he started once out of earshot. “Why do you want me to go alone?”

           “I made a surprise for them,” Bud replied. “I didn’t want to ruin it.”

           “What’s that?” Stanley prompted and perked up.

          Bud climbed onto the roof and shut the door behind him. “Well, I thought… you don’t need to go back in the fall, do you?”

          Stanley raised an eyebrow. “Uh… yeah, I do. Mom an’ Dad’ll be waiting for us.”

          Bud smiled. “You know, speakin’ of moms and dads… I don’t have a mom. She and dad kinda left each other. But My dad said he found someone else. He said that if _we’re_ friends, then–”

           “Wait a minute!” Stanley shook his head. “Are you tellin’ me that you were usin’ me to get to my _aunt?_ ”

           “N-no…?” Bud tried with an innocent smile. “I really am your friend! I like you a lot! Maybe we can be cousins! And you can stay here!”

           “My bro and I need to go back to New Jersey, Bud.”

          Bud shook his head. “You don’t need your brother, do ya?”

          Stanley’s gaze hardened. “Of course I need my brother! He’s- he’s my bro!” There was a crash downstairs. “Wha–?”

           “It’s nothing!” Bud assured him and took his hand. “They’re just–” Stanford yelled something, though from this distance and with a concrete roof between them, they couldn’t distinguish what he said.

           “Bro!” Stanley raced to the door and tried to open it.

          Bud put a hand on his half-moon aquamarine pendant. The door held firmly shut. “No! Don’t go down there! Everythin’s fine!”

           “Are you kidding me?! Open the door!” Stanley snapped.

 

          Below them, Fiddleford and Stanford stood together, backed up against the door. Boxes and the objects within floated about. Gideon stood a few yards away, one hand on his necklace. “You two are cute, I’ll admit,” he stated with a shrug. “But, boy… you certainly remind me of someone _special._ ” His eyes turned cold and narrowed at Stanford. Stanford howled as he was lifted into the air via telekinesis.

          Fiddleford jumped up and grabbed a hold of his leg. “I gotcha, Ford!”

           “L-let go of me, Gideon!” Stanford yelped.

          Gideon’s smile widened. “You really should have stayed on the other side of the country, boy.”

           “HELP!” Stanford screamed. It was futile; they were out in the middle of basically nowhere in a warehouse of concrete backed up in a corner by one of the most loved people in the town without Grauntie Mabel’s knowledge. By the time anyone found them, they’d probably be long gone.

          The door shuttered and broke. Stanford yelped as Gideon, surprised by the sudden intrusion, let him go. Fiddleford helped him get out of the way. They both tripped over their own feet and landed on the boxes.

          From outside, a man stalked into the warehouse. His entire body was cloaked in black- he even wore dark motorcycle goggles and a hairnet. Outside, a motorcycle was parked right next to their cart and Gideon’s car. Even though his clothes looked really well taken care of, if a bit old, a patch had been sewn onto his right shoulder. For a while, they stood, staring at each other. Finally, the mysterious man spoke up, “What do you think you’re doing, Gideon Charles Gleeful?”

           “Y-you know my name,” Gideon breathed. “Who are you?”

          The man set his gloved hand in his jacket. “You’re worst nightmare.” His muscles tensed as he clenched something in his jacket. “Let go of the children.”

          Gideon growled and got into a fighter’s stance. “You don’t know who you’re messin’ with, man! I can–!” he cut himself off with a cough as he was struck in the gut with a baseball. The man stalked forward, grabbing a bat as he went. Gideon lifted the man into the air. The man shuttered and, for a moment, lost his composure. He let out a choked wheeze and dropped his bat.

           “He’s going to choke him!” Stanford gasped and attempted to pull himself to his feet. He hissed in the pain of his hurt ankle. “Fidds! Do something!”

          Fiddleford shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and ran into the boxes.

           “You don’t dare mess with me!” Gideon snarled and lifted the man higher into the air. “I have a power you cannot begin to compre- agk! No!” Gideon screamed as Fiddleford grabbed his necklace and tore back. Gideon let go as Fiddleford stomped on his foot. The mysterious man fell to the ground with a huff.

          He scrambled to his feet and held out his hand. “The pendant!”

          Fiddleford chucked the pendant at the manand ran off. When Gideon charged him, the man bounced out of the way and ran behind him. He held the pendant to use it. Gideon was lifted a few inches off the ground. Then- _crack!_ A blunt object struck the cloaked man in the side of his head and shattered the window behind him. He stumbled back, fumbling with the pendant. Fiddleford and Stanford looked up to see Bud holding his own pendant. Where was Stanley?

          Gideon bowled over the man who took his pendant. When he did, the thing was thrown out of his hand and, after hitting the ground, cracked. Gideon tried to push the man away both to save himself and throw him off the cliff. However, momentum caused them both to go tumbling down.

           “Oh no!” Fiddleford ran to the window. Bud attempted to climb down. However, Stanley snatched the necklace from him, threw him into the boxes on the second floor, and jumped down. He landed in a stumble but managed to race to the window _and jump out of it._

          _“STANLEY!”_ The boys shrieked.

          Stanley fell down the cliff. The man and Gideon both fought, even as they fell. However, when they got close to the ground, the realization that they were going to die paralyzed the both of them. Then, they stopped falling. If the man wanted to, he could touch the ground with his forehead. Stanley landed beside them. The two fell with a hard _huff._ “What’s going on?” Stanley demanded. “Who are you? Why are _you_ trying to kill Ford and Fidds?”

          The man stood up and set a foot on Gideon’s chest. “D… it’s not important,” the man grumbled. Stanley couldn’t see his eyes under those goggles. “You kids shouldn’t have trusted this man. He’s twisted and foul.” He took a deep breath, kicked Gideon, and then stepped back. “But he doesn’t deserve death. Kid: use that pendant and go back up to your brothers. They need you.”

           “What about Bud?”

           “Let him leave and don’t go bothering him again.” The man pointed up. “Now go!”

          Stanley nodded and, gripping the pendant, floated back up.

          The man turned to Gideon, who was now on his feet. Gideon growled, “I don’t care who you are, but you’ve made a grave mistake.” He walked backwards into the forest, eyes narrowed in hate. “This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me.”

           “For your sake: it should be,” the man growled before vanishing into the forest.

          Stanley landed inside of the warehouse, where he was immediately greeted by Stanford and Fiddleford.

           “Stanley!” Stanford breathed. “I thought you were gone!”

           “Don’t do that again!” Fiddleford took deep breaths, as if on the verge of tears. “We thought you were dead!”

           “It’s alright. I… I made sure _they’re_ not dead. I had to. That guy saved our skins,” Stanley explained and then smiled. “Being thrown out of the window is the least Gideon deserves after messing with us.” With that, Stanley smashed the half-moon pendent against the other on the ground. Both shattered. Green wisps of smoke floated up. Somewhere upstairs, they heard Bud whimper. None of them even twitched to acknowledge his presence.

 

          When the trio got home, they found their great aunt boiling some water. “Oh, there you are!” She clicked her tongue when they got inside. “I was worrie- what happened to you three?”

          Stanford, who was leaning on Stanley as he couldn’t use his left foot without pain, grumbled, “Gideon.”

           “Gideon,” Stanley and Fiddleford agreed.

           “That little mutant,” Grauntie Mabel growled. “Attacking my great nephews and my little repair man! What happened to your foot?” She waved at them to come to the kitchen table. Stanley helped Stanford sit down.

           “I fell pretty hard,” Stanford informed her.

          Grauntie Mabel took off his shoe and rolled up his pants. “Just a bit of bruising. It doesn’t look sprained, thankfully. Those take a while to heal! Just sit down. I’ll get you an ice pack.” She stood up and walked to the freezer. “Do any of you kids want some hot cocoa?”

           “Yes, please!” was their instantaneous answer.

          Grauntie Mabel poured some ice and a bit of water in a bag, wrapped it up with a towel and set it on Stanford’s ankle. He winced at the cold but held it down anyway. “Just keep that on there for a little while. Did he hurt you two?” She stood up straight and looked over Stanley and Fiddleford.

           “No, ma’am,” Fiddleford replied and took a shaky breath. “I’m just a bit scared.”

           “Nope,” Stanley answered. “Not me.”

          Grauntie Mabel sighed and approached the pot of water. She added more to it. “What happened, anyway?”

          Stanley sighed. “Bud used me. He was tryin’ to get to you.”

          Stanford piped up, “And Gideon said I reminded him of ‘someone special’ and, uh, tried to throw me off his warehouse.”

           “Bud led us to his warehouse,” Fiddleford confirmed. “He said Gideon would let us take something because we’re Bud’s friend.”

           “Oh my. How’d you manage to get away?” Grauntie Mabel gave them a soft smile. “Scared him off, did you?”

          Stanley puffed out his chest. “Did I ever! He tried to take down Stanford and Fidds but I wouldn’t let him!” Stanley launched into an epic tale of how he and Fiddleford took down Gideon and Bud and how Gideon swore eternal vengeance. Apparently, Stanford had been trying to corner Bud, as Bud had tried attacking Stanley. They both ended up falling off the second story. Bud landed on a bunch of boxes of toys while Stanford hadn’t been so lucky. Stanley took a bat and started swinging at him while Fiddleford managed to take away _his_ weapon. Beaten up and pretty much cornered, Gideon took his son and fled.

           “You kids get up to the weirdest adventures,” Grauntie Mabel chuckled as she poured hot cocoa sans glitter into four mugs. “I’m glad you three are so protective of each other. But if that rat ever tries to lift a finger against you, you tell me, okay?” She dumped a bunch of marshmallows on their hot cocoa and passed it out.

           “No problem, Grauntie Mabel,” Stanford promised and took the mug. “Thanks.”

           “Don’t mention it,” Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Do you want me to drive you home, Fiddleford?”

           “Yes, please,” Fiddleford replied in a quiet voice. The hot cocoa seemed to calm him down. Chocolate always does that to people, it seems.

 

          Gideon sat in his room, fuming. He glowered into his mirror. An open book was on the dresser before him. A pendant was drawn on it with the word “Mystic Amulet” written in nice, blue letters above it. “I’m not going through this again. This is the last time you cretins _ever_ get in my way.” He shut his book and smiled. The dusty grayish blue leather-bound book with a silver pine tree on it sat before him. A midnight ‘2’ was inscribed on it. “You have no idea who you are messing with, kid.”

 

D **Q** HZ PBVWHUB KDV EHHQ XQOHDVKHG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dances* Yeah! Gideon and Bud! _three_ Never really liked Gideon, _letters_ but his style and intelligence wasn't anything to sneeze at. Too _back_ bad I have allergies!


	5. The Inconveniencing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley and Stanford have always been the best of friends, but never had that many friends outside of each other. When they come to Gravity Falls, it's supposed to be a clean start. So when Stanley finds the opportunity to befriend _teenagers_ , he has to jump on it. Will this friendship he's trying to forge between him with his brother and Dan with his friends be truly great, or will their adventures with them be cut short by a malevolent force bent on destroying those who call themselves 'teen's.
> 
> (I've finished the end-of-chapter codes and have now fit them at the end of all chapters- even the ones previous!)

          Dawn broke over the valley. Early birds were all too happy to fill the day with their songs. Within the Mystery Shack, things were going slow. Stanley spun on the spinning globe on the counter while Stanford read through the journal. Dan, at the cash register, read through a magazine. Somewhere in the shop, Fiddleford tinkered with some wires.

          Stanford asked, “Do you believe we’ll find any ghosts here?”

           “I believe you’re a huge dork!” Stanley teased.

          Stanford set his hand on the globe, which caused Stanley to fall off.

          The door chimed as Grauntie Mabel walked in. “Dan! Fiddleford!” Dan stood up.

          Fiddleford raced over to the door in an instant. “Yes, Ms. Pines?”

           “I’m heading out,” Grauntie Mabel stated. “You two are going to clean the bathrooms, right?”

           “Yes, ma’am!” Fiddleford answered.

           “Absolutely not,” Dan answered honestly.

           “Yeah, you kids stay out of trouble.” Grauntie Mabel shut the door and left.

          Dan smirked and ran to the other side of the room. He stopped by a set of patched curtains next to tank with a “mermaid” in it. It was the front half of a monkey carcass sewed onto a taxidermy fish tail. “Hey, gu-uys!” he called. “What’s this? A secret ladder to the roof?”

          Fiddleford ran to his side. “Uh, I don’t think Ms. Pines would like that.”

          Dan lost his smile. He reached for the ladder. “Eeeeh!”

           “Uhhhh-!”

           “Eeeh!” Dan pretended to reach for the ladder again.

           “Really, Dan, you shouldn’t be tramperin’ with that.” Fiddleford shook his head.

          Stanly and Stanford joined them. Stanley looked up at the ladder. “We can really go up there?”

           “Yeah, man!” Dan jumped up onto the ladder and raised his fist. “Roof time! Roof time! Roof time!”

           “Roof time! Roof time! Roof time!” The twins picked up the chant as they climbed the ladder behind him. Fiddleford watched them go up the ladder with a nervous groan.

          Dan climbed onto the roof, over the sign, and skidded down the roof until he came to a flat spot just below sign that overlooked the front yard. An umbrella, lawn chair, ice box, and bucket of pine cones decorated the small area.

           “Did you set all this up?” Stanford gasped as he came down to the flat portion of roof.

           “I may or may not sneak up here all day every day at work,” Dan replied with a lofty shrug. He picked up a pine cone and chucked it. The pine cone hurled at the totem pole and struck a piece of paper with a bull’s eye taped to it.

           “Whoa!” the twins gasped.

          Stanley snatched a pine cone. “Me, first!”

           “I’ll go!” Stanford picked up one as well. Stanley was able to throw the cone far, but it landed on the foot of the totem pole. Stanford chucked it as hard as he could. It landed on a blue minivan below and caused it to let out a warning beep. Stanford recoiled, a slight redness coming to his cheeks.

          Dan laughed, “Jack pot!” He held up his hand. “High-five, man!”

          Stanford turned his attention to Dan immediately and, with a cautious smile, high-fived him.

          Another minivan, this one a slightly dark shade of blue, pulled up behind the other van. “Dan!” a voice yelled from inside.

          Dan perked up. “Oh! Those are my friends. Hey, you won’t tell Mabel about this, will you?” He turned to look at the both of them.

          Stanley shook his head. Stanford copied him. He put two fingers to his lips and pulled them back like a zipper and flicked away an imaginary key.

          Dan did the same and laughed, “Thanks! Later, dudes!” He jumped onto the pine nearest, swung down onto one of the branches of the next one, and then landed deftly on the ground before the van. He was quick to join his friends and the van departed immediately. Their chanting was heard long after the van pulled out of sight.

          Stanford held his hands behind his back. “I wonder what teens do.”

           “Probably stupid stuff,” Stanley replied with a shrug. “Like breakin’ things.”

           “Shut up!” Stanford huffed and smiled. “Hey! You want to go see if Waddles dug up anything cool today?”

           “Yeah!” Stanley raced up the roof and head back to the hatch, his brother close at heel.

 

          Stanford leaned against a desk, nose in the book he was reading. So many pages were destroyed… if only he knew what they had been! Deftly, he was aware Stanley was trying to box with Dan. Dan, however, was much bigger and a few years older than he. So, Stanley was hardly able to land a blow on him.

          Eventually, a cuckoo clock went off in the gift shop. Dan stopped and looked back. “Well, would you look at that! Quittin’ time!” He took off his name tag and put it in his pocket. “Well, I’ve got to go join the gang. Later, dudes!”

           “Wait!” Stanley burst out and then cleared his throat. “Uh, what if Ford and I came with?” Stanford looked up upon hearing his named called.

          Dan sucked in his breath. “Oooh, I don’t know. My friends can be a bit on the _intense_ side. How old did you say you were?”

           “Thirteen!” Stanley stated. “We’re thirteen! Technically teenagers.” Stanford gave him a flat look. Not only was he being volunteered to do something, but they were thirteen now?

           “Thirteen, eh? You know, I like your moxy. Sure. I’m going to go grab my stuff.”

          As soon as Dan left, Stanford piped up, “Since when were we thirteen?”

           “Since now!” Stanley answered and ran over to his brother. “Look, this could be the first time we can hang out with the teens! See what they get up to!”

          Stanford shook his head. “Stanley, that’s crazy.”

          Stanley gave him a devilish smile. “Come on! You know you want to!”

           “I don’t know…” Stanford sighed. “I mean, Grauntie Mabel might not like us going out without her permission…”

           “She wouldn’t like us chasing after zombies in cemeteries, either,” Stanley pointed out.

          Stanford hesitated. “Point taken. I guess we can see what they get up to.”

           “Yes!” Stanley hissed and laughed, “Come on! They’re probably out there now!”

           “Aren’t we waiting for Dan?” Stanford put away his book and notepad and stuck his pencil behind his ear.

           “Yeah. Come on!” Stanley raced to the door. Stanford followed him with a roll of his eyes.

          Dan met them just outside the front door. Out in the front yard, the teens were gathered around each other. Two boys, both similar in lanky stature, held up a goblin-like teen by his feet. Though, their stature seemed to be their only similarity. The first’s long blonde hair brushed over his light shoulders and orange shirt. The second’s cropped black hair was a contrast to his light white and deep blue ball cap but complimented his darker skin. Toby, his face pink as blood pooled in his head, said, “Hurry up!”

           “In the belly! In the belly!” the two chanted.

          A red-haired, dark-hoodie teen chucked a few colored stones at Toby, though all she managed to do was hit various points around his stomach and lower chest. Finally, the dark-hoodie teen picked up a red stone and hesitated to aim. A green stone popped into Toby’s belly. Surprised, they turned to see Dan, arms on his hips and smile wide, stood behind them. Toby fell onto his back.

           “Dan!” they called.

           “Dan! Dan! Dan!” chanted the second one who held Toby.

           “Hey, guys!” Dan raced over to join the party. Toby put his shirt back on. “These are my pals from work: Stanley, and Stanford.” He waved his hands to indicate the twin boys.

          Stanley, chest puffed out, stated, “I’m Stanley.”

          Stanford, arms crossed tight behind his back, nodded. “I’m Stanford.”

          Stanley put his arm around Stanford’s shoulders. “We’re kind of a big deal.”

           “So, what?” the dark-hoodie teen, a black guitar in her hands, leaned against the side of the mini-van, next to the open door. “Are you baby-sitting?”

           “Shut up, Janice!” Dan chided, though no anger was in his voice. “Guys: this is Lee and Nate,” he indicated the blonde boy, Nate, and the darker boy, Lee. “Greg.” The guy on the phone lifted his hand with a mutter, but otherwise didn’t look up. His fluffy brown hair ran over his shoulders. “This is Toby, who once ate a ran-over waffle for fifty cents.”

           “Don’t tell them that,” Toby whined.

           “And this is Janice. You can probably figure her out.” Dan finished by introducing them to the guitar-player.

           “Yeah,” Janice answered and brushed her curly hair back. “I’m the girl who spray-painted the water tower.”

          Before Stanford could mull over his words, he replied, “Oh yeah! You mean that big muffin?”

          Janice huffed, “Uh, no. It’s a giant explosion!” Behind them, they could see the water tower. Indeed, the red spray-painted ‘explosion’ resembled a muffin.

          Lee and Nate laughed. Nate snickered, “It kinda does look like a muffin!”

          Janice looked at the water tower and then glowered at Stanford, who smiled sheepishly. Teenagers were not a force to be reckoned with. If he learned anything wandering the beach with Stanley, he knew that, save for police officers, teens were the next on the list of ‘people not to be challenged’.

           “Okay, guys!” Dan called, “Let’s go! I have a big night planned!”

           “Yeah!” The teens hurried to get into the minivan. Stanford stepped in the third row of seats, next to his brother. Toby and Janice took the front seats. How Dan, Nate, Lee, and Greg were able to fit together was a mystery in and of itself.

           “Guys,” Toby spoke up. The others quieted to listen to him. “My mom says that you can’t be punching the roof anymore so…”

           “Toby! Toby! Toby!” The teens immediately started punching the roof of the car. Toby sighed but started the car, anyway. Wow. They really liked to chant, didn’t they? Stanford watched as they passed the last of the Mystery Shack signs. Where were they going, anyway? Oh, this better not have been another mistake…

 

          As dusk began to fall, the twins and their great aunt were in very different places. Curled up on the couch-seat with a pair of knitting needles and yarn, Grauntie Mabel knitted her next sweater. Waddles, lazily munching on a few potatoes, lounged by her feet.

          A narrator on TV announced, “You're watching the black and white period piece old lady boring movie channel! Stay tuned for the Friday night movie: The Duchess Approves,” The TV changed to a gray screen with the words “The Duchess Approves” in curly writing. “-starring Sturly Stembleburgiss as ‘The Duchess’,” A woman wearing a nice dress in black and white appeared, a hat over her head, “-and Grampton St. Rumpterfrabble as irascible coxswain ‘Saunterblugget Hampterfuppinshire!’” The TV changed to an old man with a mustache and fancy clothes.

          Grauntie Mabel perked up. “Oh! A classic! Do you remember this one, Waddles?” Waddles oinked lazily in response.

          Many miles away, Stanford and Stanley now stood, pressed up against a chain-link fence, with Dan and the rest of his crew. Before them, on the other side of a tall, locked fence, was a beaten down convenience store.

           “There it is, Fellas,” Dan stated, his smile wide. “The condemned Dusk-2-Dawn.”

           “Whoa!” Dan’s friends gasped as they looked upon the old place.

           “Neat-o!” Stanley chuckled.

          Stanford glanced back at them. “Wh-why’d they shut it down? Health violations or…?”

           “Try _murder!_ ” Lee contradicted.

          Nate nodded. “Yeah. Some say, some folks died in there. It’s been haunted ever since!”

           “This town has such a cool history!” Stanley laughed.

           “Wh-what? Are you serious?” Stanford cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded shaky. Wait, why was he afraid? Sure, this place was haunted, but these were ghosts- _ghosts!_ It’s not like they were spending all summer trying to find them or anything. “Yeah, are there really ghosts here?” Stanford prompted and looked up at Dan.

           “Chill, man. It’s not as bad as it seems.” Dan looked up and hopped onto the fence. Stanford’s gaze fell on the sign. “TRESPASSERS WILL BE” was written in plain, bold text. The last word was crossed out and painted over with red spray-paint. “DEAD”.

          Stanford jumped onto the fence and then gasped as he nearly slipped off. He leaned forward and curled his fingers into the fence to give him a better grip. Everyone else was over the fence by the time he was at the top.

           “Come on!” One of the kids called.

          Janice pointed to his brother. “Dude: your brother did it.”

          Stanley looked up at him, shrugged, and then set one foot on the fence. “Come on, bro! Like we practiced!”

          Stanford took a deep breath, got both feet on the fence, and jumped off. He landed squarely on the ground with one hand in the dirt in front of him and the other held back to give him stability. He laughed and high-sixed his brother.

          They crowded around the front door. Yet when Janice pulled at the door, it wouldn’t budge. “Ugh! It’s stuck!” Janice growled. She looked over at Greg, who shrugged.

          Stanley stepped forward. “Let me take a crack at it!”

          Janice scoffed, “Oh-ho. Yeah. I can’t open it, but Junior’s just going to break it down like Hercules.”

           “Come on man,” Dan complained. “He’s just a little kid.”

          Stanford glanced at Stanley, who deflated a bit at this comment. “You know how to get in through the vent?” Stanford breathed.

          Stanley smirked. “You bet!” he whispered back and then tromped around to the side of the building. With everyone watching, he climbed onto the dumpster and attempted to jump onto the lip of the roof. Stanford got on the dumpster and knelt so that he could give his bro a boost.

           “Whoa, kid!” “What are you doing?” “Be careful!” the teens called after him.

          Stanford hopped down. “Get ‘em, Stanley!” he called up to him.

          Stanley punched through the cover to the metal vent and climbed in.

           “Whoa, Lee! Take it easy!” Dan called up to him.

          Janice turned around and sneered, “Who wants to bet he doesn’t make it?”

          The door opened behind him. Stanley, chest puffed out and a smirk on his features, held the door open.

           “Oh, hey!” “Alright!” “Awesome!” The other teens, and Stanford, headed toward the door. Janice watched him with narrowed eyes before following.

           “Good call inviting this little maniac!” Nate said as he passed.

           “Your new name is Dr. Funtimes!” Lee congratulated as he passed.

          Stanley and Stanford raised fist-bumped as Stanford passed.

          Greg didn’t comment; she didn’t even look at him.

          Dan punched him in the shoulder as he passed. “Nice work!”

          Toby looked about as they went inside. “Do you really think this place is haunted?”

          The teens laughed. “No way, Toby!” Nate laughed.

           “Aw, man, shut up,” Lee agreed.

          Behind them, the ‘open’ sign slowly, silent, flipped itself around so that it read ‘ _Get Lost!_ We’re CLOSED’.

          The teens spread out through the store. Stanley and Stanford stayed close together and walked with Dan and Janice.

          Dan looked about. “Whoa! This place is even creepier than I imagined!”

          Stanford picked up a dusty old newspaper wrapped in plastic. He brushed off the dust enough to see the date and headline: “USA: NEWZ” “May 2, 1995” Then, below that, was the headline: “CHEESE CRUST PIZZA DECLARED ‘DELICIOUS’” With a picture of a slice of pizza beneath it.

          Nate and Lee walked down one of the isles. Nate prompted, “Where do you think they keep the dead bodies?”

          Lee shoved him. “Shut up, man!” he laughed. Nate laughed, too.

          Dan stopped at the end of the store. A panel with three light switches was beside an ATM. “Hey, guys! Do you think these still work?” He flicked all three switches. The store came to _life._ The lights blazed and the machines swirled, heated, chilled, glowed, or anything in between.

          The teens laughed and ooh’d at the sudden lightshow. Stanley hissed, “Jackpot!”

          Stanford looked up at Dan. “What do we do now?”

           “Anything we want!” Dan announced.

          Then, like the children they were, they started taking anything and everything and turned it into a game of some sort. Toby, Greg, and Nate stood at one side of the store, packed with snack-ammunition. Nate held Stanford on his shoulders. On the other side of the store, Dan, Janice, and Lee with Stanley chucked food back at them.

          Once they got bored of that, they just went to playing with random objects. Nate hit Lee with a bag of cat litter and laughed at him. Lee retaliated with another bag of cat litter.

          The kids gathered around a few Pit Cola 2-liters. Greg sat on the isle. Toby dumped a few Mintos in Lee’s hand and he dropped three at a time in the soda. It erupted like a volcano, sending soda raining down on the snack-covered kids.

          While running around the store, Stanley discovered a new prize. He stopped and stared a wall of candy taped down with “DO NOT SELL” tape. The title, “SMILE DIP” with two giant yellow dogs, was nearly covered. The stacked rows of expired, illegal powder-candy sat neatly in their rows.

           “Oh my gosh!” Stanley gasped. “Smile Dip!” He picked up the nearest package, ripe with the candy and the stick the candy came on. “I thought this stuff was banned in America.”

          Stanford approached him. “Yeah, I think they had their reasons.” Stanford took a step back as a snack of some sort, probably nacho cheese, hit him in the face. He laughed and ran after the teens.

          Meanwhile, Stanley tore open the package and too out the stick inside. Although he dipped it in the candy, he ended up pouring the contents of it in his mouth directly.

          Eventually, things started to calm down as energy had been expended. Stanford sat on top of an isle next to Dan. The both of them ate popsicles. “Hey Toby!” Lee called. “Come over here!”

           “Whatever it is, I’ll do it!” Toby yelled back and raced to the other end of the store.

          Dan laughed and called, “To-by!” He chuckled at turned to Stanford. “Ford, this night is, like, legendary.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah, man! Look: the guys are bonding,” Dan tipped his head to Lee, Janice, and Toby. Janice poured ice down Toby’s pants. Despite the cold, the three laughed. Dan indicated Greg. “I haven’t seen Greg look up from his phone like that in a long time.” Greg glanced up from his phone on occasion. “And your brother looks like he’s going nuts over that Smile Dip!”

           “Ugh…” Stanley groaned, hands on his candied stomach and head against the board that held the candy as he was laying down. Candy powder sprinkled about him. “Maybe I’ve had too much…” He looked up at one of the containers. “What do you think?” Stanley paused, as if listening to something. He giggled. “Oh of course I’ll eat your candy paw!” He held some imaginary thing and chewed on it. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t good.

           “You know,” Dan started. “I honestly didn’t think you could hang with us for a while there. But you’re surprisingly mature for your age.”

           “Yes. Yes, I am,” Stanford agreed. A piece of ice cream smeared on his cheek as he tried to eat it without looking.

           “Hey! We’re out of ice!” Nate yelled.

          Stanford hopped off the isle. “I’ll get it!” He raced to the other side of the convenience store, where the ice was stored. How the ice stayed in chunks, or stayed cold at all, was beyond him. He opened the icy door, picked up a bag of ice and took a step back. When he looked up to close the door, he came face-to-face with a pair of floating eyeballs attached to a disembodied head and a whole network of strings. A mouth floated before the brain and opened. The eye balls lunged at him.

          Stanford screamed and dropped the bag. Ice and small amounts of water drenched his shoes and the floor. Stanford hurried to slam the door shut and force the disembodied face-parts in the freezer. He shut his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and turned around again. Okay, so there _was_ a mysterious entity here. It was most likely a ghost. This convenience store _was_ haunted. They were playing inside of it and destroying the place.

          Stanford, against all better judgement, opened the door again. The entity was no longer there.

           “What was that?” Stanford turned around to see the teens had abandoned their posts and come to investigate the noise. Lee had been the one to speak.

          Nate nodded. “Yeah. I thought I heard some lady screaming.”

          _I don’t scream like an old lady,_ Stanford thought to himself, though the shock of the recent reveal squandered any indignance he might had had.

          Lee’s eyes brightened when they met Stanford’s. “You freaking out, kid?” He waved his hands by his head in mock terror.

           “N-no,” Stanford stated with a shake of his head. “No, no. Everything’s, uh, alright.”

          Janice pointed to the torn and empty ice bag on the floor. “Then what’s all this about?”

           “Oh! That! That’s uh…” Stanford’s eyes flicked to a dancing machine by the glass wall to the outside. “Hey! Look at that! Dancy Pants Revolution! That’s the game that tricks people into exercising, right?”

          All thoughts on Stanford’s nervousness were lost in the wake of excitement at the prospect of a new game. They immediately rushed to it.

          Stanford sighed and glanced back at the ice machine. The only thing inside of it was a few bags of ice. There was nothing paranormal there. Stanford took out his notepad and the pencil from behind his ear. Although the pad wasn’t sticky, Stanford found himself glad he didn’t bring the journal. Woe be to him if he got expired nacho sauce on it. Stanford scribbled down his findings, and even a picture of the monster. Though he hadn’t stared at it for long, the haunting image of that creature did not want to leave his head.

           “Go! Go! Go! Go!” the teens chanted and egged Toby on as he played Dancy Pants Revolution.

          Stanford put away his notepad and pencil joined the other teens. Dan chuckled, “Man! He’s really bad at this!”

           “Yeah,” Stanford agreed without really thinking about it. His gaze drifted to the glass doors with their reflection. He froze, eyes wide in terror, as their reflections turned into skeletons wearing their clothes and patches of their hair. He rubbed his eyes. The reflections returned to their normal state. That’s it. He was done. “I’ll be right back.” Stanford ran off without waiting for an answer. He picked up a telephone and tapped a few numbers into it. Let it work. Let it work. Let it work!

          _Riiiing! Riiiing!_ He twirled his fingers in the wire. Okay, the phone works, probably. But why is it still ringing? “Come on, Grauntie Mabel! Pick up! Ugh, what is she doing?”

          Unknown to him, the phone was not in the living room and so Grauntie Mabel wasn’t paying attention to it. Her eyes stayed on the TV. Her knitting needles, now nearly finished with a new sweater, were set on her lap.

           “I don't care about Dukes, or Commoners, or His Royal Highness Lionel of Cornwall! I'm not afraid anymore, Mother!” the Duchess declared.

          The screen turned to her mother. “Duchess, I forbid you.”

          Grauntie Mabel, now clutched a bowl of ice cream, watched the movie with watery eyes.

           “I may be a Duchess, but… I'm also a woman!” the Duchess announced and dramatically tore off her hat. Her long hair fluttered in the wind.

          Grauntie Mabel cheered, “Yes! Yes! In your face, Elizabeth! It's just like my life! …in a way.”

 

          Stanford abandoned the phone and ran to one corner of the store where he knew the Fun Dip was. Stanley would probably still be there.

          Unfortunately, he was right.

          Stanley sat cross-legged, facing the Smile Dip shelves.

          Stanford paced behind him. “Stanley, I need your advice. We’re stuck in a haunted convenience store, I can’t get a hold of Grauntie Mabel, and if I say anything, they’ll just think I’m a scared little kid!” Stanley made some sort of gurgling noise. Stanford, his blood frozen in a new fear, turned around. “Stanley?”

          Stanley’s eyes were wide and his pupils were so dilated Stanford couldn’t see his true eye color. Pink, foamy saliva mixed with expired sugar dripped down his lips and chin. “The future… is in the past…” the words were somehow articulated in this weird state he was in. “Onward Aoshima…!”

          Stanford grabbed a hold of his shoulders and shook him. “Stanley! How many of those did you eat?!”

           “Beleven… teen…” he managed to choke out.

          Stanford dropped him and began to pace again. He wrung his hands together. “Oh man, oh man, oh man!” This was a nightmare. It had to be. It had to be. It _had_ to be.

          By the counter, Janice had torn through a few scratch-to-win cards. The coin dropped and landed behind the counter. “Hey, guys!” Janice called. “You better come see this!”

          Stanford took a few deep breaths. Okay! Maybe he could find a way to convince them to leave! Maybe he could tell them that the dead bodies were somewhere else or whatever? Oh! He could tell them where they died! They’d eat that up.

          Stanford joined the crowd around the counter. Two lines of tape on the ground marked the exact position the couple of people who died had taken when they fell.

           “The rumors are true!” Nate breathed.

          Janice smirked. “Dude! I dare you to lie down on it!”

          Nate elbowed Lee. “Good idea! Why don’t you go lay down on it!”

           “Oh, look at me!” Lee laughed. “I’m a dead body!”

           “W-wait!” Stanford blurted out before he could stop himself. Lee stopped and turned to him, did the rest of the teens. “Okay, maybe we should… not do that.”

          Nate scoffed, “O-oh! Looks like someone’s scared!”

          Called it. Stanford sighed, “All I’m saying is that we shouldn’t… tempt the Fates. What if this place really is haunted?” he winced at his own words.

          They groaned, the good mood lost.

          Janice rolled her eyes. “Just take it down a notch, Captain Buzz-kill.”

           “I’m not!” Stanford huffed. “I’m just…”

           “Look, you’re _acting_ like Captain Buzz-kill,” Janice stated. “Am I right?”

          The others nodded. To Stanford’s despair, Dan shrugged. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

          So, these guys really weren’t going to believe him? Why did _no one_ ever believe him?! Stanford glanced in the direction of his brother. He was still flat on his back. He looked to Janice. “You think this place isn’t haunted?” Stanford prompted and crossed his arms.  “Why don’t you prove it?” Yes! If he lies down on that stupid tape, something spooky will happen and everyone will freak out and leave. Perfect!

           “Of course, this place isn’t haunted!” Janice huffed. “You’re just being a baby.”

          Stanford raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

          Janice turned to Lee. “Go ahead and lie down.”

          Lee shrugged and lay down on the ground. He moved his arms and legs so that he mimicked the police tape outline. He laughed, “See? There’s nothing-” Lee cut himself off. The tape around him sparked and started to glow. He jumped up and backed off. The air dropped in temperature. All electronics turned off- save for the lights, which gave off an eerie green glow. Greg howled in terror. When they turned to look at him, they found only a shimmer of what used to be him that quickly dissolved. His phone clattered to the ground.

           “Greg!” they cried.

          Stanford picked up the phone and read the message aloud, “Status update: Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!” Something banged above them. They looked up. Greg was trapped within the security camera TV. He banged on the glass and looked around.

           “Greg!” Dan yelled. “Greg!”

          Stanford piped up, “Can you hear us?”

          Greg looked about, seemingly unable to see or hear them.

          Nate looked about. “What are we supposed to do?!”

          Lee put his hands to his head. “I don’t know, man! I don’t know!”

          Janice waved her hand to the door. “Let’s just get out of here!”

          Dan turned to Toby. “Toby!”

          Toby, still dancing, called, “Wait! I’ve almost got the high score!” Suddenly, his feet stopped moving. Toby, too, dissolved. He reappeared in the game. “Uh? What?”

          The dance machine responded, “It’s time to shake what your mama gave you!”

          Arrows rained down on Toby. He crawled to the edge of the screen, arrows now sticking out of his back, rump, and legs. “No! So many arrows!”

           “You’re a dance machine!”

           “No, _you’re_ a dance machine!” Toby cried and curled up into a ball at the edge of the screen.

           “Toby!” Dan gasped.

           “Forget them!” Janice yelled. “Let’s go!”

          The doors shut themselves.

          Dan immediately attempted to open the door. It wouldn’t even budge. “Guys! It’s locked!” A very sincere panic laced his voice.

           “OUTTA MY WAY!” Janice, the empty cash register in her hands, charged the exit and chucked the machine at it. The machine phased straight through the glass door, swallowed up by a bright green light.

           “Okay, wait!” Stanford commanded. “The ghosts have to be doing this for some sort of reason! We just need to figure it out!”

          Janice, despite the chaos, rolled her eyes. “‘Uh-uh! They’ll let us out of here!’ Yeah that makes a lot of sense!”

           “I don’t know, guys,” Dan said, eyes darting around the spooky store. “I think he has a point!”

          Nate scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure the ghost just wants to talk about his feelings.” Suddenly, Nate dissolved. He reappeared in a bowl of cereal on a cereal box.

          The colorful-beaked Toucan wielding a spoon stared down at him. “I’m bonkers for eating you alive!” Nate screamed and dodged as the toucan stabbed the bowl.

           “Nate!” Lee cried. He took off his hat and turned to Stanford. “Okay, okay! I’m 100% behind you, man!”

          Then, a new voice appeared. “Welcome.”

          Behind them, floating out from behind the desk, was Stanley. His eyes glowed completely white, void of pupils. An aura of green light emitted from his dirty clothes and powdery hands.

           “They got Stanley!” Stanford cried, too dazed and scared to form a sentence outside of the obvious.

           “Welcome to your graves, young trespassers.” The ghost’s voice was _much_ deeper than Stanley’s prepubescent voice. Even the ghost’s laugh was sinister and booming like a clap of thunder over the shaken store.

          Dan, like the rest of them, cowered away from the entity that now possessed Stanley. “We’re very sorry for hanging out in your store!”

           “Yeah!” Stanford nodded fervently. “Can we just leave forever?”

          The ghost gave them a flat look. He waved his hand. “Sure.” The doors opened. “You’re free to leave.” A smile spread across his features. He floated past them, easily parting the small crowd as none of them wanted to get within three feet of the possessed boy. “But before you leave, hot dogs are now half-off. I know it might be crazy, but you’ve got to try these dogs!”

          Lee and Janice screamed and fled.

          The door shut in their faces. The ghost’s smile contorted into a snarl. “Just kidding about the hotdog sale!”

          Lee turned to him in exasperation. “Just let us out already!” Janice had to hold him back as he attempted to charge the ghost. Stanford bristled. That was his brother! Okay, he was possessed by a ghost, but Stanley was still his brother! He wouldn’t even try to punch him.

          The ghost crossed his arms. “I don’t like your tone.”

          Lee dissolved. He reappeared as a hotdog in the hotdog roller. “No! I’M A HOT DOG!” he screamed.

           “It begins,” the ghost stated in a haunting voice, face flat of emotion. His arms raised high. Quite suddenly, Stanford felt weightless. He looked about. It was as if someone had just turned off gravity- or, rather, changed gravity. Everything not nailed to the floor floated up and rested on the ceiling. “Welcome to your home for all eternity!” His voice gradually raised in volume until it was a roar.

          Dan turned to Stanford. “What do we do?!” A slush-making machine floated up and launched itself toward Dan.

           “DUCK!” Stanford yelled and grabbed Dan’s wrist. Dan pulled them both down as he flattened himself to the ground. The machine soared over them. An artificial wind picked up. Gradually, the wind got stronger and stronger. More and more things, heavier things, were picked up in the growing wind and flew around the room in a swirling cyclone.

          Dan looked up. “Quick! There!” He pointed to a cabinet stuck to the ceiling. The two made a break for it, staying on their hands and knees but moving as fast as possible. Dan allowed Stanford to go inside first before scrambling inside and shutting the door. Stanford wheezed and gasped. There was hardly room to breathe! Dan’s bulk alone took up most of the cabinet. Although the teen pressed himself against the side of the cabinet so hard he nearly broke it and sucked in his gut to make himself as small as possible, it was still suffocating for the both of them.

          Dan wheezed, “What do they want from us?!”

          Stanford shrugged. “Revenge, maybe?”

           “What did we do wrong?” Dan’s round eyes stayed on Stanford’s. He really didn’t believe anything he did was wrong, did he?

           “Okay, let’s try to figure out a pattern here,” Stanford offered. “What was each person taken? Greg was texting, Toby was playing a video game, Lee and Nate were being sarcastic. I don’t know why they’re possessing Stanley.”

           “It doesn’t make any sense!” Dan groaned. “That’s all normal teenage things!”

           “Dan, say that again,” Stanford ordered.

           “Normal teenage things?” Dan prompted.

          The puzzle pieces clicked together. “Of course,” he breathed and then ordered, “Stay here until I get back!” He wormed his way out of the cabinet and scooted across the floor on his belly using his elbows and toes to propel him.

           “DUDE! What are you doing?” Dan called. Although he attempted to go out after him, a solid block of ice smashing against the floor outside stopped him.

          Stanford stared at the back of Stanley’s head. The farther he crawled, the more his fear melted away. Like an ice block under the summer sun, the closer he got to the source of his courage, the weaker his fear got. Debris swirled around him like a tornado. Once he got close enough, Stanford stood up. “Ghost!” he cried.

          Stanley’s head snapped back. Stanford winced. Oh, he’d be feeling that in the morning. A smile spread wide across his features.

          A green light emitted from Stanford’s body. Stanford stared down the ghost, refusing to let his fear take him. Even when he floated a few inches off the ground, his fear refused to be summoned back. “I have something to tell you! I’m not a teen!”

          The ghost stopped smiling. In fact, Stanley’s eyes stopped glowing. Everything around him stopped glowing and the debris fell down. Stanley’s head bent forward and his half-opened eyes stared at nothing. Two ghosts materialized above Stanley. The man held onto the boy’s arms. The woman floated beside him, a calm smile spreading across her features. The male ghost, Pa, laughed. “Oh, why didn’t you say so?” He dropped Stanford. The boy yelped as he fell into the pile of debris. “How old did you say you were?” Dan popped his head out of the cabinet.

          Stanford took a deep breath. “Twelve. We’re twelve- technically _not_ teens.”

          Ma, the female ghost, scowled. “When we were alive, teenagers were on a scourge on our store!"

          Pa nodded. “Always sassafrassin' costumers with their boomy boxes and disrespectful short pants! So, we decided to up and ban them! But they retaliated with this new fangled rap music.”

           “The lyrics, they were so, hateful!” Ma agreed. “It was so shocking, we were stricken down with double heart attacks.” She smiled. “That's why we hate teenagers so much! Don't we, honey?” The two nuzzled and cooed to each other.

           “Well, they’re my friends,” Stanford pointed out. “What can I do to help them?”

          Ma put her hands together and stared at him with soft eyes. Pa, his arm around her shoulders, prompted, “Do you know any funny little dances?”

          Stanley, a hand on his head, looked blearily up at the ghosts and then to Stanford. The weirdest expression was on his face. He could pass out at any moment.

          Stanford glanced at him and then them. Oh no. He couldn’t dance. “Uh… is there anything _else?”_

           “NO!” Pa roared, his teeth now jagged and mouth open like a hungry shark. His hair burst into flames and he changed from a calm mint green into a furious red.

           “Okay, okay, okay!” Stanford put his hands in front of him in submission, Pa calmed down again. What was he going to _do?_ He never danced. He just stayed stuck in his books reading! Stanley was the one that did stuff. Then again, he did go to that party when he was, like, five and watched some sister put a lamb suit on her brother and make him dance. If he could remember it then… he sighed. “I do know _one_ dance. The, uh…” What was it called? “Lamby, Lamby Dance.”  He glanced down at his jacket. “But, uh, I can’t do it! Because I’m not in costume! Er, a lamb costume.” What about a funny story? Would that work? Stanford knew plenty of stories.

          Pa snapped his fingers.

           “Ah.” Stanford glanced down and looked at one of his hands. Okay. He was in a slightly loose, very white and fluffy lamb costume with ears, a tail, and a giant pink bow. Oh God. Was his life really worth this? …probably.

          Stanford took a deep breath and smiled. He raised his hands and sang, “Weeeeeell!” He stood up straight and then pointed around the room in front of him, as if speaking directly to them. “Who wants a Lamby, Lamby, Lamby?” He raised his hand as if answering his own question. “I do! I do!” He jumped up and then pointed to the crowd again, one hand on his hip. “So go up and greet your Mammy, Mammy, Mammy!” He waved again, once with each hand. “Hi, there! Hi, there!” He marched about in a circle. “So march, march, march around the daisies…!”

           “Yes, yes!” Pa cried. “More! MORE!” Stanford was acutely aware that Dan watched him with the biggest grin, now.

           “Don’t, don’t, don’t,” Stanford stopped marching and put his hands together. “-you forget about the-” he slid down onto one knee and waved his hand. “-babiiiiies!” He winked and put a finger to his cheek.

          Suddenly, Stanford was back in his shirt, jacket, and jeans. He set his hand in his jacket and felt his notebook beneath his fingers. Good. Nothing was missing… besides what little dignity he had.

           “Well, you don’t have to worry about us coming back,” Stanford said. The ghosts, pacified, dissolved into nothingness. The doors opened. Stanford looked up- or, rather, down. Well, when gravity falls…

          Stanford yelled as he was promptly dropped from the ceiling and hit the floor. Everyone else crawled out of wherever they’d been stuck, hands on their heads and grimacing in pain. Stanley popped is head out of a pile of smile dip wrappers and torn packages. “Ooooooh,” he groaned and shut his eyes. “I’m never eating again in my life…” Stanford patted his shoulder and helped him to his feet. They looked back to see all but Dan sitting down.

           “What happened after everything went all crazy?” Nate groaned.

          Dan’s eyes lit up. “You’ll never believe what happened! The ghosts appeared and Ford had to…” he looked back at Stanford. The kid bit back a sigh and looked away, hands behind his back and head in his shirt. Ah well. At least they were okay. He could stand hearing about it forever, probably. “And, uh… ahem. Ford just grabbed a bat and started swinging at ghosts left and right!” Ford looked up at him in shock. The other teens were now standing up, enraptured by the lie Dan was telling. Nate and Lee high fived. Janice and Greg stared at Dan in disbelief. “And then the ghosts just ran away like a bunch of little girls! It was insane.”

           “Ha-ha!” Lee laughed. “Dr. Funtimes is back!”

          Dan zipped his lips and flicked his fingers to throw away the key. Stanford did the same. Dan… was a cool guy.

          They wasted no time in leaving the haunted store. When they did, they found early dawn light washing over them. Most of the teens were in the car in seconds.

          Dan stood outside with Stanford and Stanley for a few moments. “Well, I’m scarred for life.”

           “Yeah, it was pretty crazy,” Stanford agreed.

           “Well, I think I’m going to stare at a wall for a few hours and rethink everything. Next time we hang out, let’s stay at the Mystery Shack.”

           “Deal,” Stanford agreed instantly. As much as he loved the paranormal, maybe he wasn’t quite ready for it yet. Oh, who was he kidding? He defeated two ghosts single handedly! He could do anything! With that, they climbed into the car and sped off.

          Stanford kept an eye on his brother, who was curled up around his stomach and groaning in what he could only assume was a severe stomach ache. Well, at least he won’t be doing that again. Then again, Stanley was very compulsive. If given the chance, Stanford would not doubt Stanley would do it again.

 

          Grauntie Mabel, out of ice cream and long since done with her knitting, held Waddles in her lap. How the hundred plus pound pig didn’t injure her was astonishing. Then again, years of carrying him and holding him most likely made her strong enough to do it. She sighed as she watched the movie play. “Ah, the wedding. I've waited so long for this. Oh, look at her in that dress!” Suddenly, people on the TV gasped. Grauntie Mabel narrowed her eyes and scowled. “Count Lionel? What's he doing here?!”

          Count Lionel announced, “I've come to reclaim my bride!”

          Grauntie Mabel pointed at the TV, “You had your chance at the cotillion, you!”

          A man on the TV stated, “You had your chance at the cotillion, you!”

          Grauntie Mabel threw up her hands. “That's what I’M saying!”

 

          Stanley and Stanford, after being let out of the minivan, trudged back to the Shack. Stanley curled up into a ball in his bed. Stanford sat down and took out his notebook. He sketched out Ma and Pa, holding hands and floating, smiles on their faces. In the margins, he drew Pa with his hair aflame and teeth jagged.

          _“‘MA’ AND ‘PA’ Vengeful ghosts that haunt the ‘Dawn-2-Dusk’ convenience store. They can possess people, levitate objects, control gravity, and manipulate reality- such as turning a human teenage boy into a digital character in a dance machine…”_ As he wrote, he’d occasionally go back and continue drawing the two ghosts until both looked the way he wanted them to. Later, he added the floating brain, eyes, and mouth he found in the freezer and labeled it ‘unknown’.

 

WKHB DOZDBV KDYH D UHDVRQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this was a fun one! _three_ I finished this chapter _letters_ before I even finished "The Hand that Rocks the Mabel" _back_ and had a lot of fun with it.


	6. Stanford versus Manliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanford has a bit of a rough day when he learns his great aunt and brother don't think he's manly. Despite being incredibly smart, Stanford was never the strongest of them- that spot was taken by his brother. So, now on a quest to earn his manliness, will he succumb to peer pressure from those he trusts to aid them, or will his own will and morals keep him on the right track?

          Grauntie Mabel stood at the register to the Mystery Shack. Early daylight streamed in through the windows. Currently, Tyler stood at the register, a wide grin on his features. “I like to do my Christmas shopping early,” he informed her. “Do you have anything that’s in the spirit of the season?”

          Grauntie Mabel’s eyes flicked to a whicker bowl of shattered glass. She presented it to him. “How about these crystals?”

          Tyler chuckled, “That looks like broken glass!”

           “It probably isn’t.”

          Tyler turned around and gasped. “Oh! Look at that new thing!” He ran to the other side of the shop.

          The doorbell rang as Stanford and Stanley walked inside the shop.

           “Grauntie Mabel,” Stanford called for her attention.

          Once they knew she was looking at them, Stanley asked, “Can we go to the diner?” They both looked up at her with round eyes. “We’re huuuuungry!” Stanley groaned and held his stomach.

           “Hungry!” Stanford echoed in a weak voice and did the same.

          They groaned and hit their stomachs together. “Hungry~!”

           “Yeah, sure,” Grauntie Mabel replied and then pointed at Tyler. “As soon as this man makes up his mind.”

          Tyler turned back to them and indicated a fur-covered trout on a plaque. “Do you have this in another animal?”

          Grauntie Mabel looked down at them. “I’m fine with locking him in here if you are.”

          The two kids ran outside. Grauntie Mabel followed and barred the door behind her. Currently, Tyler had gone on to trying to choose between two shirts- one with a purple cat on a purple shirt with silver mountains, and one with a deep green cat on a dark green shirt with silver mountains and a moon. “Puma shirt? Cougar shirt? Panther shirt? Cougar shirt?”

 

          The car stopped in the parking lot of the train-car-turned-diner. As usual, the diner was busy.  “Free Pizza” shirt guy ate a pizza in a booth near the front. Next to his booth was one holding Greg, still texting away, and Nate. A woodpecker attacked the wood. It was promptly shooed off with a broom by a worker, as was the beaver in the floor.

           “Coffee! Coffee!” Old Woman Chiu, sitting at the bar, wheezed as she worked on her seventh cup of coffee. Beside her, “Tough Girl” Wendy and Dan ate their breakfast. Sheriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland were in the seats next to them.

           “Go! Go! Go!” Deputy Durland chanted, holding his radar gun in front of a large stack of pancakes. Sheriff Blubbs swept them into his mouth one-by-one as fast as he could. “Yeee-haw!” Deputy Durland whooped.

          The Pines family sat a few booths away. Grauntie Mabel held a menu while Stanley held a spoon on his nose. Stanford attempted holding a spoon on his nose, but it fell immediately.

           Lazy Susan ambled over to them, a notebook and pencil in her hands.

           “Lazy Susan!” Grauntie Mabel greeted with a wide smile. “It’s been a while! How have you been doing?”

           “I got hit by a bus yesterday!”

          The two laughed at this. Stanley raised an eyebrow at Stanford, who shrugged. Whatever joke it was, they missed it.

           “Anyway, you do split plates, right?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          Lazy Susan nodded. “We sure do!”

           “Great! Then we’ll split a half of the number seven as well as a side salad dressing for the boys.”

           “But Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley complained. “We wanted pancakes.”

           “With the fancy flour they use these days?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “We’re better off with eggs and bacon, trust me.”

           “Awww.”

          Stanford looked past them to the end of the restaurant. A manliness tester stood at the very back. A pile of pancakes sat on a counter beside it. “WIN GAME” Was written on a sign above it, with the words “FREE PANCAKES!” directly under it.

          Stanford perked up and then gave them a smug smile. “Don’t worry, pancakes are on me. _I’m_ going to win us some free pancakes by beating that manliness tester!”

          Stanley echoed, “Manliness tester?”

           “Beating?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. The two burst out laughing.

           “What? What’s so funny?”

           “No offense, Ford,” Grauntie Mabel replied after she calmed down to a few chuckles. “But you’re not exactly… _manly manington.”_

           “I am, too!” Stanford narrowed his eyes at her.

           “Look, bro,” Stanley started. “I love ya, but you don’t have muscles, you smell like dusty old books, _and_ let’s not forget last week’s… _incident.”_

           “Wha-what?” Stanford sputtered. “No! What are you talking about?”

           “When you were singing along to Disco Girl, by BABBA.”

          Grauntie Mabel put a hand to her mouth. “You were listening to Icelandic pop sensation _BABBA?_ ”

           “Pfft, no. I- uh, that’s not important.” Stanford set his gaze. “I-I’m plenty masculine!”

          The two burst out laughing again.

          _Grauntie Mabel and Stanley are just the two best pals, huh?_ Stanford thought bitterly and got up. “Fine, family of little faith. Get ready to eat your words- and some delicious pancakes.” Stanford marched to the end of the restaurant. Grauntie Mabel and Stanley stopped laughing and watched him. The gaze of fellow diner patrons followed him at he went. Dan’s gaze flicked to the tester at the end of the room and his gaze grew soft.

           “Okay, Stanford,” the boy stated with a deep breath as he stopped in front of the machine. Wow that thing was bigger up close. “Time to man-handle this… man handle.” There were five boxes with words going up the machine as well as a large row of lightbulbs. “WIMP” was at the bottom with “MIDDLE AGED LADY” above it. “BARELY PASSABLE” and then “MAN” were above that. At the very top was “MANLY MAN”. “And a one… and a two…”

           “Quit stalling!” Grauntie Mabel called back.

          Stanford grabbed the handle of the machine and squeezed it as hard as he could. The lightbulbs at the bottom flickered on. A few ticked as a good few lights popped up, passing “WIMP” and “MIDDLE AGED LADY”. He gasped. The lights went out- all but the very bottom, which blinked. A little pink card came out from it. “You’re a cutie patootie!” was written in curly letters above a happy baby.

          Not wanting to admit defeat, Stanford put away the card and huffed, “This old thing must be, eh, broken. It’s really old, I mean that’s what machines do. Probably ran out of power or- oof!” Stanford stumbled back and looked up. He had been pushed aside by the lumberjack. Not even a guy, it was “Tough Girl” Wendy. Stanford started to speak, perhaps to inform her of its broken-ness or for-guy-ness, but decided against it. She pinched the handle and pushed it forward. All of the lights blazed and blinked. Smoke burst from the cracked machine. She hit the edge of the plate with pancakes. Pancakes flew _everywhere._

           “Pancakes!” Wendy laughed. “For everyone!” The crowd cheered.

          Stanford didn’t even need to look back to see his family still snickering. “I’m going to need to get some muscle.” With a growl, he let go of the pancake that fell on his head and stalked out. He yelped as he tripped over a beaver, but quickly got to his feet with a wheezy, “I’m fine! Everything’s fine!” before leaving.

           “Yeesh,” Grauntie Mabel huffed. “I remember when we were that age. Did your dad ever think of putting him in sports?”

           “We box!” Stanley informed her with a nod. “He’s… not that good at it.”

          She shrugged. “Ah well. He’ll toughen up one day. If I know anything about nerdy little boys with amazing siblings, it’s that they grow up.”

           “Did you have to ‘learn to toughen up’?” Stanley asked.

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “Ha-ha! Nah, I’ve always been the tougher gal. Eh, I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

 

          Stanford stalked through the street, grumbling to himself. “Not manly enough. Stupid diner. Stupid test- ack!” Stanford took a few steps back as he was sprayed in the face. Nearby, a fire hydrant was broken and sprayed water everywhere.

          Sheriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland stood beside it. Sheriff Blubbs shook his head. “Another hydrant destroyed. It’s a gosh darn mystery.”

          Deputy Durland stared at the spraying water. “Wanna take off our uniforms and run around in circles?”

          The sheriff, already out of his uniform, stated, “Quit reading my mind.” The two promptly ran around the water, twirling their shirts above their heads.

          Stanford backed up and rubbed his face to clear his eyes of water. He stopped as he bumped into a woman.

           “Oh! I’m sorry!” she gasped and turned around, some envelopes in her head. “I didn’t see you there, kid.”

           “I-I’m not a kid!” Stanford squawked and bristled. “A-are you saying that I’m not a man or- or-?”

           “Are you okay?”

          Stanford ran off, head low and hands in his pockets. _I’ll show them. No more of this wimpy ‘kid’ stuff._

 

          Stanford ended up in the forest. He grabbed onto a low-hanging branch and tried to pull himself up onto it. “Two… three… four…!” he fell off with a huff. “Ugh. This is never going to work. I’m just going to be a wimpy kid forever, aren’t I?” He took out a bag of beef jerky from his jacket. “You’re Inadequate!” was written in a speech bubble above a blonde-haired, sun-glasses wearing dude with a handlebar mustache.

          The ground rumbled. A roar echoed through the trees. Stanford jumped and skittered back. He yelped and put his hands on his head as all types of animals flew or ran over or past him. “Tough Girl” Wendy fled from the forest. “What are you doing?! For the love of everything good, RUN!” The lumberjack raced away. Stanford watched her go. Bears and “Tough Girl” Wendy were running. Welp. He was dead.

          Stanford attempted to run away, but a tree fell down in his path. He hid behind a log. Stanford turned to look up as a massive shadow fell over him. Stanford screamed as the beast’s shadow fell on him.

          Before him, giant hooves crashing into the ground, was an epic monster. He was tall and bulky with thick muscles and hands like a human. Yet he had hooved feet, a snout, ears, and wicked horns. A tufted tail trailed behind him, hardly reaching his massive shins. A beard fell from his chin and long hair raised from his shoulders, chest, and back. The only thing he wore seemed to be a towel wrapped around his midsection. He yawned and stretched, baring the circle with an up-pointing arrow tattoo on his shoulder. He grabbed a buck from the brush and used its antlers as a back-scratcher before throwing it away. The deer got to its hooves and bounded away.

          The minotaur turned his gaze on Stanford again. Stanford attempted to hide behind the log again. The minotaur swatted it away like a fly. “Please don’t eat me!” he squeaked and scrambled back so that his back touched a rock. “I-I-I’m tiny and d-don’t taste good!”

           “You!” the minotaur roared and pointed at him. Stanford flinched. “Going to finish that?”

          Stanford looked down at the bag of beef jerky. He shook his head and threw it. The minotaur immediately scarfed down the food provided. “Half bull, half man.” Stanford watched the creature eat. _Yet, with a taste for jerky. Are they commonly cannibals?_ He piped up loud enough for the creature, who was by now done with the jerky, to hear, “Are you a minotaur?”

           “I’m a _man_ -otaur!” he corrected, his voice heavy like thunder. “I’m half man, half… uh… -taur!” He punched the ground as he said this, making Stanford bounce off the ground.

           “Did I summon you?”

           “The smell of _jerky_ summoned me! JERKY!” He punched a tree, causing it to splinter and break. He picked up a boulder and smashed it into his head. It broke into dust and pebbles. “Yeah! Ha-ha! …eh?” He sniffed the air and twitched his ears. After a few seconds, he sniffed Stanford. “I smell…” He sniffed him again and then stood up straight. “Emotional issues.”

           “I… have problems,” Stanford agreed with a sigh. The manotaur flopped down, cross-legged. He patted his leg. “My own brother and aunt called me a wimp. I… failed this ‘manliness video game’…” Stanford looked up at him. “Hey, you seem like you could give me some pointers.”

           “Hmm… Very well!” The manotaur jumped up and turned around. He pointed to his back. “Climb atop my back-hair, child!”

           “Er- okay?”

          Stanford gripped the min- manotaur’s fur so tightly his knuckles turned white. The manotaur, laughing and roaring, sprinted through the forest. He leaped over fallen trees and rammed through trees in his way. Branches smacked Stanford each time he raised his head to see where they were going. The trees thinned ahead. “Ah! Watch out!” Stanford yelled as they barreled toward a cliff. He shut his eyes and tensed as the manotaur leaped clear over the gorge. His hooves hardly touched the ground before he crashed straight through a stone wall and into a cave.

          The manotaur stopped and set Stanford down. Stanford looked about with wide eyes. Games, targets, tables, chairs- this cave was full of not only other manotaurs, but recreational activities. Stanford’s fingers twitched. Oh, how he wanted to bring out his notebook and scribble it all down! He glanced up at the manotaur. Then again, that would probably make him look like the nerd he was and the manotaur most likely wouldn’t like that.

           “The gnomes live in the forest,” the manotaur explained as they walked. “The merpeople live in the water- because they’re losers! We manotaurs live in the _MAN CAVE!”_ He stopped by a giant gong near the center of the cave. He picked up a hefty bone and cracked it against the gong. The entire area fell quiet as the manotaurs turned their attention to him. “Attention!” the manotaur Stanford knew called. “I have brought you a hairless child!”

          Stanford smiled and waved. “Hey.”

          The manotaur indicated two gray-brown manotaurs punching each other. The left one had black hair that fell over his eyes. The right one had a grayish beard but no hair. He had a spiked pauldron. “This is Pubetaur, Testosteraur,” he indicated deeper gray-brown manotaur with a bone through his nose sniffing his armpit. “Pituitaur, and I'm Chutzpar. And you are?”

           “My name is Stanford,” Stanford answered. The crowd of manotaurs booed. “Er- the Destructor?”

           “Yeah, that’s more like it.” “I get it.” “Better.” The crowd muttered their approval of the name.

          Chutzpar banged the gong again. “Stanford the Destructor wants us to teach him the secrets to our manliness.”

           “I-I need your help!” Stanford agreed.

           “I must confer with the High Council,” Testosteraur stated and turned around. The rest of them joined in on the huddle- all but Chutzpar, who stayed with Stanford. Stanford could overhear them not-so-quietly whispering. “So, teach him our man-secrets or what?”

          Pituitaur stated, “He’s a human. I don’t like him.”

           “I don’t like your face!” Testosteraur roared and punched him. This led the group to fall into fighting.

          Stanford sneaked a glance at Chutzpar, who seemed to be eagerly watching his fellows. Stanford took out his notepad and pen and scribbled down a rough sketch of a manotaur. When they kept fighting, he started filling in details.

          Eventually, the manotaurs stopped fighting. Stanford immediately put away his drawing supplies and stood up straight. Testosteraur stated, “After a lot of punching, we have decided to deny your request to learn our manly secrets.”

           “Denied!” Pituitaur agreed and punched himself in the face.

           “Denied?” Stanford echoed. He hesitated and then shut his eyes and straightened out his jacket. “Oh that’s fine with me. I understand; you think it would be too hard to train me.” He opened one eye into a slit. “Maybe you’re just not _man_ enough.”

          The crowd gasped. Testosteraur bristled. “Not man enough?!”

          Chutzpar held up his hands. “Destructor…”

           “Not _man enough?!”_ Testosteraur stopped in front of Stanford. It took all of his willpower not to flinch.

           “He didn’t mean it-” Chutzpar tried.

           “I have three Y chromosomes,” Testosteraur roared. Stanley almost raised an eyebrow at him. Wouldn’t that make him infertile? “-six adam's apples, pecs on my abs, and FISTS FOR NIPPLES!” He raised his arms in a flex. Indeed, he had fists for nipples. Stanford couldn’t help but feel fascinated. These were not like the minotaur of legend. Were they a subgroup that divided from the minotaur, or were the minotaur just a mispronounced legend of the manotaur?

          Stanford, as Testosteraur stopped talking, crossed his arms. “Seems to me you're too scared to teach me how to be a man.” He let his arms fall to his side and put on a look of very obvious fake surprise and confusion. “Hey, do you guys hear that? It sounds like… Bock-bock. Bock. Oh, that's weird-Bocock, bocAW! Is that?-BACAWK! That sounds like-BACAW!” He smirked and pointed at them. “Yeah, a bunch of chickens!”

          The group huddled again. Stanford crossed his arms. These guys were so dumb. Briefly, he wondered whether or not he should just leave and get Stanley to teach him how to box. Testosteraur whispered, “I feel all weird.”

          Pubetaur nodded. “He’s using some sort of _brain magic!_ ”

          They turned to face him. Testosteraur declared, “After a second round of debilitation, we have decided to help you become a man!” He raised one fist.

          The manotaurs behind him raised their fists and whooped in agreement. “Man! Man! Man!”

           “Thank you!” Stanford burst out and then took a deep breath. “Whatever it is, I won’t let you down.” He tried not to show the concern he had for his own words. He probably just got himself into a _lot_ of trouble.

 

          The manotaur gathered outside. Chutzpar explained, “Being a man is about conquering your fears.”

          Testosteraur nodded. “For your first man-test, you will plunge your fist into the _pain hole!_ ” He pointed to a hole in ground some distance away. A sign reading “pain hole” was planted above it. The group of manotaur gasped and winced at the mere thought of the hole indicated by Testosteraur.

           “Wha…?” Stanford prompted and tipped his head. The pain hole? That was… unique…? Was there a monster down there? Oh, there definitely had to be some sort of monster or poison or something down there.

          Testosteraur marched over to the pain hole, knelt, and plunge his fist into it. Stanford recoiled. What? He wasn’t going to at least look inside of it, first? What if there was a snake in there? “Pain hole, Smain ho- agk!” Testosteraur’s brag turned into a scream of agony. He jumped up and, holding his hand, fled.

          Stanford approached it and knelt beside it as well. Although fear of pain tried to keep him too still to conduct the action and fulfill the test, he couldn’t help but be curious. What was down there, anyway? He glanced inside. It was dark- too dark to see anything. Against all better judgement, he put his fist inside. It… was named appropriately.

          Stanford trained for the rest of the day. The tests were absolutely ridiculous- all of them. The second ‘test’ was pulling a wagon. The manotaurs jumped into the “Party Wagon” with the horse. Stanford was tied to the wagon instead and was forced to pull it. He couldn’t help but thank the stone age for the invention of the wheel and everyone after that for aiding in the invention of tools such as wheels and axels to help him pull that stupid cart.

          Between one of the tests, Chutzpar sprayed glue on Stanford’s chest and pushed a clump of his own hair on Stanford. It didn’t last. Of course it didn’t last- it was glue! Glue peeled off skin very easily. Still, it was amusing and intriguing to see the creativity behind it. He at first assumed Manotaurs had a different thought process than humans. But did they actually have similar human minds–which were unique in nature almost by a human’s potential creativity–with just a slightly lower intellectual capacity?

          Another test involved crossing a river full of crocodiles. He had to step on their heads like stepping stones to cross. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get his leg bitten off. The manotaurs cheering both bolstered his confidence and deepened his fear as the crocodiles took offense to the noise and disruption.

          Stanford was also given inspirational speeches based on posters of honor and glory. Once, Chutzpar drank from one of the broken fire hydrants in town. When Stanford attempted to do the same, he was blown back by the force of it.

          One of the last tests that he went through was jumping over a crazy gorge. The first few times he tried it, he failed. But as time, and training, went on, he got better and better until he finally barely made it across.

          Finally, Stanford got to relax in a hot spring with a few of the other manotaurs- Chutzpar, Clark, and a dark black-brown manotaur. “Guys, I just want to say that these last few hours have been…” he thought on the words he was about to say. “I feel like there’s really been some growth.”

          Clark, a darker brown manotaur with fuzzy hair and a large red growth on his forehead, pointed to his forehead. “ _I_ have a growth.”

          Stanford laughed, “Clark, you’re hilarious!” Click clicked his tongue and pointed a finger-gun at Stanford. “But, really, you guys have been so supportive.”

           “Oh, stop!” Chutzpar chuckled.

           “I’m serious! I feel like I’m finally becoming a man, here.”

           “Hold on, Destructor,” Chutzpar warned. “There’s still one final test.” In the background, Pituitaur rat-tailed Beardy with a towel. Beardy spun around and growled in indignance.

           “I’ve survived forty-nine other trials. I think I can take this one on!” Stanford declared.

 

          Stanford and the manotaurs stood in a darker part of the cave. A few lit the ceremonial torches around them. Stanford, now wearing only a loincloth, knelt in front of Chutzpar, who licked a few tattoos and stuck them to his body. Stanford looked about. Did he _really_ have to wear this? Could he had worn at least actual pants? Or shorts? He’d be fine with shorts. Normally, he wasn’t but he could make an exception here.

          Stanford, once Chutzpar finished the tattoos, stood up and faced the crowd. The front row knelt. The second row took out two bones each and banged them on the front row’s horns like drums. “Behold!” Chutzpar cried, “Our leader!”

          The crowd parted to let an elderly manotaur, humming a small song, through the crowd. Stanford tipped his head. “Is he the oldest or wisest of your people?” Fascinating! A tribe of masculinity-obsessed people with a frail old man as their leader! Then, a giant pair of jaws lowered and snapped up the old man before retreating back up. Well, that shot down his theory.

           “No, he’s the offering,” Chutzpar denied. “ _That_ is Leaderaur.”

          Stanford looked up at the gargantuan, midnight black manotaur. Stanford had no doubt believing that this giant, who looked as if he could carve out a mountain, was their leader. How did a manotaur get that big? His head alone was half the size of the largest manotaur, who were nearly two and a half times taller than Stanford. Yet, he must not have moved too often. His legs were unnaturally short, his arms unnaturally large, and moss and mushrooms grew on his shoulders. A giant tear from a claw or spear ran across the left side of his chest. It seemed as if it was fresh, yet not bleeding. Did his wounds not heal?

           “You! You wish to be man?” Leaderaur’s voice rumbled like a landslide of boulders. Stanford about spoke but, instead, his chest with a hard _huff._ The other manotaurs growled their approval. “Then you must do heroic act!” Leaderaur announced. So, not only was he much bigger, but his sentences consisted of fewer and more simple words. Was he truly a manotaur or some sort of giant, rare subspecies the regular manotaur took as deities? After all, Testosteraur seemed to be the biggest, boldest, and most leader-like of the manotaur. Yet he was not nearly as large as Leaderaur. No one was near the same shade of midnight black, either. “Go to highest mountain!” Leaderaur plunged his fist into his chest and, with a pained roar, drew out a spear nearly as long as Stanford. “And bring back head of _Multi-bear!_ ” The bone-crafted spear landed on the stone before him with a _clang._

          The rest of the manotaur gasped. Stanford prompted, “The multi-bear?”

           “He’s our sworn enemy!” Leaderer roared. “Conquer him and your man-sformation will be complete!”

           “Conquer?” Stanford echoed. “I don’t know…” Why would he conquer anything? _Could_ he conquer anything? Well, would helping bring down an epic gnome-monster count as ‘conquering’? After all, that was the only monster he came close to conquering. The rest were just lucky escapes, quick thinking, or fulfilling a demand.

           “Destructor?” Stanford looked back as Chutzpar called his name. He held Stanford’s bag in one hand and a CD labeled “BABBA” in the other. “Is this yours?”

          _What was that doing there?_ Stanford snatched it from him. “No. I was holding onto it.”

          The other manotaurs grumbled amongst themselves. “I don’t know about this.”

          Stanford’s gaze flicked about. Hours of training- gone! If he didn’t pick up this quest, he’d probably have wasted an entire day and be stranded on a mountain and told to go home. Stanford snatched the spear and held it high. “I will conquer the multi-bear!” he cried. The other manotaurs whooped and roared. Leaderaur tipped his head back and snorted fire. Leaderaur definitely was a different species of manotaur. If manotaur could breathe fire, they’d have set everything on fire by now.

 

          Stanford raced through the forest. Lighting arched through the sky and thunder snarled at the forest. He whipped his staff around to cut any branches that got in his way. He left in his wake a trail of splintered branches and twigs and torn leaves. He bounced over rocks and ran through the brush. At one point, he knelt beside a buck and drank from a river. Stanford tried not to show his excitement in being hardly two feet away from a fully-grown deer. He looked up and nodded. Surprisingly, the deer nodded back. Were deer this tame in this forest?

          Eventually, Stanford left the forest. He hopped about the rocks and jumped over cracks. A ravine came between him and the cave just a few yards away. He used his spear as a pole and launched himself across. Finally, he stopped in the mouth of the cave. “I’m coming for you,” he stated in a deep growl.

          Stanford stalked into the cave, eyes darting about. Bones littered the cave floor and led a trail deeper into the cave. Stanford knelt and picked up a bone. “What’s a multi-bear anyway?”

          A savage, bearish snarl erupted from the cave ahead. Stanford jumped to his feet and held tight his spear. Before him, a mass of brown fur and heads rose up from the ground. The creature stood on two sets of legs and wielded two arms. Yet a mane of heads surrounded the head at the very top. Between both pairs of legs was another head. Stanford… didn’t feel like thinking about how its body worked.

          The multi-bear stared down at him. One head continued to roar. “Bear heads! Silence!” the multi-bear cried. The head kept roaring. The multi-bear smacked its snout a few times to shut it up. His gaze turned back to Stanford. “Child! Why have you come here?”

          He still looked like a child, didn’t he? “Multi-bear! I seek one of your heads!”

           “This is foolish!” The multi-bear countered. “Leave now, or die.”

          Stanford tried to put his fear down. _Leave now, or die._ That sentence was always bad. He dug his bare feet into the stone and tensed his muscles in a fighting stance. He pointed his spear toward the multi-bear.

           “So be it,” the multi-bear stated. He, and his heads, roared. The multi-bear got down on all six legs and charged Stanford. He evaded the charge, spear held before him. The giant bear was bigger than the manotaurs! There was no way Stanford, still a weakling and now very tired from a day of excruciating exercise, could defeat it through pure strength and skill. He had to outsmart the creature somehow.

          The multi-bear stopped its charge and looked back at him, snarl lost and wide eyes trained on him. The bear soon shook off his surprise and stood up. He whacked a pile of bones, causing them to fly at Stanford. The boy dodged as best he could and rolled behind a rock to evade the rest. He took a deep breath and jumped on top of the rock. The multi-bear roared and lunged at him. Stanford jumped onto the head that snapped at him and climbed the rest. He was keenly reminded of the crocodile-filled river he needed to cross. He waited until the heads snapped down before climbing onto his muzzle and finally jumping on his back. He forced his spear in front of the multi-bear’s top–and probably main–neck and grabbed onto it with both hands. Then, he planted his feet on the multi-bear’s shoulders and pulled back as hard as he could.

          With a strangled roar, the multi-bear staggered and fell back. Stanford jumped off before the multi-bear could crush him. Once the multi-bear was down, he jumped onto his shoulder and raised his spear. The heads–all but the main one–stayed still. The main one looked up at him. Stanford recited one of the lessons taught to him, “A man shows no mercy!”

           “Very well,” the multi-bear sighed. Stanford’s resolve wavered. He couldn’t look into those eyes. “But could you grant a magical beast one last request?”

           Stanford lowered his spear and relaxed his hateful stance and snarl. “Okay.”

           “I wish to die, listening to my favorite song.” The bear turned his gaze to a boom-box on the other side of the cave. Stanford jumped off him and approached the boom-box. “It’s already in there. Just press any button- yes, that one.” Stanford pressed a large button. Music immediately answered.

          _“Disco girl! Coming through~!”_

          Stanford stared at it in disbelief. The multi-bear closed his eyes. Stanford held up a tape. “You listen to Icelandic Pop Sensation _BABBA?_ I… I love BABBA.”

           “I thought I was the only one,” the multi-bear admitted. He turned his head and shut his eyes again. “The manotaur make fun of me because I know all the words to Disco Girl.”

           “Oh, you mean _‘Disco Girl,”_

          _“Comin’ through,”_

          The two sang together, _“That girl is you! Oo-ooo! Oo-oooo!”_

          Stanford laughed. “This is crazy! I finally find someone who… understands…” His gaze flicked to the spear in his hand. “Oh. I… guess I’m supposed to kill you. Or I won’t be a man.”

           “I accept my fate,” the multi-bear stated and turned his head.

           “No… Really?” Stanford asked.

           “It’s for the best,” the multi-bear admitted and looked at him with his gold eyes and red pupils. Stanford nodded. He raised his spear, closed his eyes, and–

          His spear stabbed into the stone ground of Leaderaur’s lair. The crowd gasped. “I’m not going to do it,” Stanford stated.

          Leaderaur leaned forward. “You were told the price of manhood is the multi-bear’s head!”

           “Listen, Leaderaur, alright?” Stanford looked back at the crowd. “You too, Tesosteror, Pubertor, and… B-Beardy?”

          The auburn manotaur with a long bear nodded. “It’s Beardy.”

           “You keep telling me that being a man means doing all these tasks and being so aggressive all of the time! But I think that’s _malarkey,_ ” he growled. Why didn’t he just say this before? The crowd gasped. “So, maybe I’m not that strong and I don’t have hair in certain places. Sure, I’ll sometimes I’ll leave the radio on when a girly song pops up. Dang it, top forty songs are top forty for a reason!”

          Chutzpar, expression blank, asked, “Destructor… what are you saying?”

           “I’m saying that the Multi-bear is a very nice guy. You are all a bunch of jerks if you want me to cut off his head!” He had quite a few other adjectives he could use. However, he knew that their patience wasn’t going to last long and he was still smaller than them.

          Leaderaur stood up and swiped his paw at the spear. It was obliterated upon impact. “Kill the multi-bear or never be a man!” he snapped.

          Stanford narrowed his eyes. “Then I guess I’ll never be a man.”

          The crowd, including Chutzpar, booed at him. “Boo!” “Weak!” “Lame!”

          Chutzpar raised a bone. “Hey, guys! Who wants to build something and knock it down?” The manotaurs roared in approval and followed him as he raced away.

          Stanford kicked a stone and stalked off, ready to find his clothes and wash off.

 

          The diner was mostly empty in the late afternoon. Most people had eaten lunch, but no one was ready for dinner. A large slice of pie was before Grauntie Mabel and Stanley.

          Mabel’s gaze wandered to the window. Stanford stalked through the sidewalk, hands on his jacket pockets and gaze down. Stanley followed her gaze. He knocked on the window. “Ford!”

          Ford stopped and looked up. “Huh?” Stanley had one hand on the glass and raised another to knock on it again.

           “Can you hear me?” Stanley called.

           “Yeah,” Stanford answered.

           “Then get over here already!” Stanley ordered.

          Stanford walked into the diner and sat down at their booth.

           “Hey, Ford! …somethin’ wrong?” Stanley tipped his head.

           “Yeah,” Stanford muttered. “This min- manotaur people–half-bull-half-man–were hanging out with me… and they tried training me. But then they wanted me to do this horrible thing and I said no.”

           “You were your own man,” Mabel commented. “And you stood up for yourself.”

           “Huh?” Stanford asked, looking up at her in surprise.

          Mabel elaborated, “You did what was right, even with no one agreed with you. That sounds pretty manly to me. But, what do _I_ know, right?”

          Stanford smiled. _Take that, Testosteraur!_

 

          The dusk sun sent shadows over the valley. Stanford sat on his bed, scribbling in his notebook. He redrew the picture he made of the manotaur. The manotaur had his hands on his hips.

          _Manotaur_

          _These half-man, half-bull humanoids are very close in description to the Minotaur. However, there are multiple distinguishing features that differ from the legend…_

          _In my studies of them, I have discovered that they possess a human-like mind, though their intellectual level seems to be sub-par compared to the average human. They also seem to be cannibals. The one whom I “summoned” had actually come to me because I had beef jerky with me- a food made out of bovine meat. When I came to see their leader, a manotaur named Leaderaur (more on him in the next section), the manotaurs first had to sacrifice an older manotaur from their group. Leaderaur ate the old creature whole. The other manotaurs cheered at this. This leads me to believe that they are a cannibalistic group who obsess over toughness, pride, and strength. When I prompted them on the female manotaurs–as I saw none in the “man cave”–the subject was abruptly changed. Are the legends true that minotaurs exist, but they are purely female? The Greek legend does not support this theory, but I must share it, anyway. Are they secretly a matriarchal society where men live separate from women and compete amongst themselves to be the strongest? Or are women, since they are not manly, shunned? Does a female possess a stronger intellect that scares them?_

          _When I showed off my intelligence when encouraging them to train me, they very quickly change their mind and accepted me. I assume that if I was a woman, they would have a different response…? When they found a CD cover of a “girl song” in my bag, they teased me. If they are afraid of women, do they immediately lash those who have something “girly” with them, or do they just not respect women to the point any who carry their things are considered lesser? Female manotaurs remain a mystery to me, unfortunately, and I do not foresee a change in that in the immediate future._

 

PDQ RU ZRPDQ, VWLF **N** WR BRXU PRUDOV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... isn't my proudest chapter. Unfortunately, _three_ I didn't include any "Mabel and Stanley Training" segments. Stanley didn't have any summer crushes. It was also pretty tough _letters_ spelling their names correctly. But, hey! I did it! In the future, I'll _back_ be posting "Journal 3 pages" on my deviantart- fanmade ones, of course, I'm not copying and scanning in actual pages. That would be rude.


	7. Second Stan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grauntie Mabel decides to throw a party and everyone is helping decorate! The party is going to be one to remember, for sure. A powerful machine disguised as a regular copier machine has been fixed up in Grauntie Mabel's office. Will Stanley and Stanford stay clean in this party, or will they have to resort to desperate measures just to stay afloat in the minefield of a dance floor?

          The Mystery Shack was buzzing. The former wax parlor had been transformed into a rather large dance floor. Fiddleford, arms overly full of party supplies, darted about the room, eyes bright in excitement and feet light. He paused for a few seconds to put a party hat on the taxidermy rhino head horn on the wall before continuing on.

          Dan, sitting on a chair in a large row of chairs, blew up an entire bag of balloons by hand. After he blew up a balloon, he’d tie it and then let go of it so that the inflated balloon joined the dozen others already on the ground.

          Grauntie Mabel, a checklist in her hand, walked about with a hum and headphones. _“Friday night, we’re gunna party ’til dawn! Don’t worry, Daddy, I got my favorite dress on!”_ She inspected the various things that needed to be straightened. She’d stop on occasion so that she didn’t trip over Waddles or Fiddleford. She watched the boy run off to throw some streamers somewhere and then looked about for the other boys just about his age.

          Stanford and Stanley sat on the couch, hands behind their backs. Stanley scrunched up his face as he tried to muffle a smile. Stanford put a hand on his stomach. “Oooooh no, Stanley! I don’t feel too goooooood…” he groaned. “I…” He turned to Stanley and, making sure the can of red-violet silly string was hidden behind his head, pretended to barf silly string.

          Stanley gasped, “Grauntie Mabel! What did you feed us!?” Then he, too, turned to his brother and “threw up” blue-violet silly string. The two took turns covering each other, and the couch, in silly string. Grauntie Mabel didn’t look back at them. She was too busy humming the lyrics to one of her favorite songs.

           “Guys, guys!” Dan ran up to the boys. “Stop! Something terrible has happened!”

          The two looked up at him, their smiles lost.

          Dan smiled and sprayed vibrant green silly string at them as he, too, pretended to throw up silly string. They laughed and jumped off the couch. Soon, they’d abandoned their silly string and threw confetti at each other. Once Grauntie Mabel got in the crossfire and her bright blue suit was covered in confetti, she took off her headphones and side-stepped out of the way. She turned to the boys and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, you three! Those decorations go all over the _dance floor_ not _me._ ” A sly smile spread across her features. “Unless, of course, you’d like to gain the automatic title of back-up singer.”

          The kids hid the party supplies behind their backs. When Grauntie Mabel turned her back, Stanley threw confetti at Stanford. This turned into a chase as the three chased each other around the room, throwing confetti, silly string, and whatever else they were given at each other. Although most of it ended up on the kids, there was some to go around on the floors and walls.

          Fiddleford, now on ladder and tying a string up on the wall, asked, “Ms. Pines? Whose birthday is it again?” He ducked and shook his head as confetti rained down on him.

           “No one’s,” Grauntie Mabel answered. “I thought this party would be a good way to get kids to spend money at the Shack!” She held up a poster with a tailless donkey that said “UN BURRO”.

           “Nice!”

           “The young people of this town want fun? I’ll give them fun!” Grauntie Mabel announced. “I mean, how much different can parties get over the years?”

          Stanley, a 2 liter of Pip Cola in his hands, commented as he poured himself a cup, “Maybe it’s comments like that that make kids _not_ want to come.”

           “Hey, hey! Soda’s for the party.” She took the soda from him and capped it. “Now, why don’t you two start copying these fliers?”

          Stanford and Stanley looked over the clipboard with fliers they received. They were pink and _mostly_ simple as they were decorated with party hats and, in bubble letters, “PARTY” was at the top. Then, in bold letters, “AT THE” and “MYSTERY SHACK” was below that, finally ending in “KIDS AND TEENS WELCOME”. “FREE?” A buck head was beside the word. However, what made the flier truly Grauntie Mabel’s creation was the pink glitter and cute animal stickers on it.

           “O-oh! A trip to the copier store!” Stanley exclaimed, holding up the cup of soda.

          Fiddleford, now somehow behind them, nodded, “Calendars, mugs, t-shirts and more! They got it all at the copier store! That’s… not their slogan. But it’s catchy.”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head with a great smile. “Save yourselves the trouble. You know the old copier in my office? I finally fixed her up! Good as new!”

 

          Inside of Grauntie Mabel’s office, something had been covered by a tarp. When it was taken off, a bit of dust trailed behind it. A few moths fluttered away. Electricity buzzed about the broken copier- or, the formerly broken copier that now looked even worse. “Ooh! Moths!” Stanley exclaimed. “They’re like butterflies, but eat clothes.”

          Stanford opened the top, dislodging a few spider webs. “Does it even work?” He pressed a few buttons and looked over the paper. Stanley set his arm on it. A green beam of light slowly flashed over the glass bottom. Stanley recoiled. Once the green light faded, the copier choked out a paper that had a copy of Stanley’s arm on it.

          Stanford picked up the paper. “Huh. Guess it still works. It’s in black and white tho-ough!” He yelped and dropped the paper as it shivered in his hands. Then, the arm regained the exact color and pattern as Stanley’s arm and the rolled up, red-and-white sleeve of his shirt. Worse than that, though, was how the arm tore itself out of the paper and then half-flopped, half-dragged itself toward them.

          The boys screamed and Stanley poured his soda on it. The arm twisted up and writhed as its skin boiled before finally dissolving. “Oh my gosh,” Stanford gasped. “I think this copier can copy human beings!”

           “Whoa,” Stanley breathed. “Cool!”

 

          Later that day, as night began to fall, Grauntie Mabel stood in the middle of the room. Dan, Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford stood in line in front of her. “Okay, party people!” she announced. “Time to hand out jobs! Fiddle, because you asked, I’m giving you responsibility over music as a DJ.”

           “Cool!” Fiddleford gasped and held out a book. “I even got a book over how to DJ R-R-Right!”

           “…not encouraging. But at least you have a guide. Ford: You’re in charge of the snack table and cups. We have plenty more in the back if we run out.”

           “Got it, Grauntie Mabel!”

           “Now, Dan and Lee: You two are working ticket booth,” Grauntie Mabel stated.

           Stanley groaned, “Aw come on! This is my chance to meet people, though! And show off my awesome dance moves!”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Sorry, Lee. I’ll let you be snack-monitor next time.”

          Stanley sighed. “Oh, fine.”

 

          In their room, Stanford checked over his outfit. Instead of wearing his jacket, he got to wear a nice blue suit, almost like Grauntie Mabel’s but with a longer frill and smaller, black bowtie. There was no tag on it, indicating its origin most likely lying with their great aunt. “How do I look?”

           “Like you’re wearing a suit,” Stanley replied, his voice taking a bitter tone. His own suit was quite a bit like Stanford’s except it was a very light pink, unbuttoned, and showed a lacey white shirt underneath of it. At least his bow tie was similar to Stanford’s. “Ugh! Does she want to make me look like a girl?”

           “You don’t look like a girl,” Stanford comforted and then chuckled. “You look like one of Dad’s pictures from Prom!”

           “Ew! Don’t say that!” Stanley complained, though he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice.

          Stanford shrugged. “You’ll be working at the stand, though, so everyone will expect you to wear a suit like that.”

           “Yeah, I guess.” Stanley brushed off his suit again. “Do you think Mabel will cut off the stand sometime?”

           “Maybe when it closes,” Stanford denied.

           “Stans!” Grauntie Mabel called upstairs. “Are you ready, yet? The ticket stand’s opening!”

          The two called down, “Coming!”

 

          A pink disco ball sent hot pink dots swirling over the ground and the people who danced in it. Spot lights, some light pink and some light blue, blazed. Fiddleford, headphones stuck on his head and “How to DJ R-R-R-Right!” open next to his keyboard, self-tinkered laptop, and other gear, messed with the music. His suit, a slightly rough, brown-and-white, home-made tux, turned all types of colors in the light. His ordinarily long hair had been brushed back. A few stray strands fell forward.

          On the balcony overlooking the floor, Stanford watched the crowd. Grauntie Mabel, now in a sparkly purple sweater and long orange-esc skirt, walked through an open purple curtain. Humming a song under her breath and dancing to it, she stopped by Stanford and leaned on the rail. Her blue-triangle earrings glinted in the light and large red bow on her head pulled back her hair. “So, does your aunt know how to throw a party or what?”

          Fiddleford announced, “The energy in here is lightning!” He picked up his book and looked over it. “Lightning… lightning… lightning…” he tapped a few buttons on his keyboard until the crackle of thunder sounded.

          Grauntie Mabel stood up straight. “If anyone wants to leave, they have to pay an exit fee of fifteen dollars!”

          Below them, Nate and Lee counted out their money. “We only have thirteen!” Lee cried.

           “We’re trapped!” Nate agreed and the two pounded on the window.

          Outside, Dan and Stanley worked at the ticket booth. A roll of tickets was beside the cash box and two bowls of popcorn were for Dan and Stanley. Each person in line would give the needed amount of cash to Stanley. Dan would cut off a ticket for each person. Neither of them noticed Nate or Lee behind the window over the loud music.

          Dan gave the occasional word of welcome to the people who got in. Stanley awkwardly sat beside him. It was going to get _very_ boring _very_ fast.

 

          Inside, Stanford sat down to take a breath and drink of water from the chair next to him. Waddles, a black bow tie on his little suit, hopped up onto Stanford’s lap. As his hooves had been cleaned straight before the party, he didn’t get Stanford dirty. “Oof! Hey, Waddles!”

           “Oh! Cool pig!”

          Stanford looked up to see two boys stop by him. One was bigger and bore a poloshirt with a duck on it and jeans that reached just past his knees. The smaller boy had brown hair like his friend, but it was puffier and longer. He wore a blue hoodie and brown shorts. They both sat down. Stanford petted the happy pig. “Oh! H-hello! Um, this is Waddles. He’s my great aunt’s pig.” Waddles nibbled on the wrist of Stanford’s suit. “And, um, I’m Stanford.”

           “Cool. I’m Hank.” Hank, the bigger of the two, held out his hand.

          Stanford smiled and continued to pet Waddles. “Uh, nice to meet you, Hank.”

          Hank lowered his hand and gestured to the boy beside him. “This is Nicolas.”

          Nicolas waved. “Hey! Your new around here, right?”

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah. I’m visiting my great aunt for the summer. She’s hosting this party.”

           “Oh! Ms. Mystery, right?” Nicholas asked. “Yeah, we know her- sorta. Everyone does.”

          Hank nodded. “The Mystery Shack has a lot of weird things, but she makes suits, too.”

          Stanford nodded. “Mhm. She made our suits and a bowtie for Waddles.”

          Nicolas prompted, “What about your brother?”

           “We never see you two apart,” Hank explained.

           “Oh! He’s working the ticket stand,” Stanford replied. “With Dan. Dan works here, too.”

           “Dan!” Hank agreed. “Yeah! My mom fired him last summer. He’s not a good worker.”

           “Oh. Well, he’s good here,” Stanford replied.

           “Can I pet your pig?” Nicolas asked. “Eh, Bottles, right?”

           “Waddles,” Stanford corrected. “And sure.”

          Nicholas leaned over Hank and patted the pig’s head. “Wow! He’s so tame! I’ve never touched a pig before.”

          The music lowered in volume and Fiddleford spoke into the mic, “Remember! Whoever… parties hardies,” he squinted his eyes at the paper he held to make sure he was right. “-by the end of the night, gets this party crown!” He held up a plastic yellow crown with jewels on it.

          Another boy, perhaps a bit older than Fiddleford, walked up to his stand and held out his hand. “Party crown? I’ll take that now.”

           “Who’s that?” Stanford prompted.

           “That’s Preston Northwest,” Nicolas explained. “He’s the richest and most popular kid in town.”

          Fiddleford lowered the crown, but still kept it out of his reach. “Er- I’m sorry. But I can’t give it away. Ya have to win it in competition.”

          Preston Northwest smirked. “And who would compete against me, farmer boy?” He took the microphone and turned around. His icy blue eyes landed on Stanford and the two kids by him. “Duck-boy, hoodie?” He, and his two friends–one a boy and one a girl–laughed. The two boys looked away from the laughing rich boy and his friends. By this time, Fiddleford was trying to take back his microphone. Preston held it just out of reach.

          Stanford set his gaze and stalked forward to meet Preston and Fiddleford. Stanford slapped his hand down on the table right next to Preston, causing Preston and Fiddleford both to jump. “Sign me up, Fidds!” Nicholas and Hank gasped. Preston recoiled and stared at him. Fiddleford took this opportunity to take back his mic. Stanford turned to Preston. “I’m Stanford.”

          Preston scoffed, “What is that- some old man’s name?”

          Stanford tried not to let his nervous stutter return, “Yeah, but it’s also my name.”

          Preston’s smile wavered. “May the best partier win.” Preston snapped his fingers and walked away, friends at heel.

          Stanford’s two new friends came up behind him.

           “Whoa!” Nick breathed. “That was so cool!”

          Hank smiled. “He’s goin’ down.”

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, definitely.” _You don’t know how to dance, Stanford! You idiot!_

          Outside, more people had arrived. Dan looked back at the loud party. Stanley, making up for Dan’s distraction, tore off a few tickets as well as took their money. “Whoa! That party’s really picking up, eh? Cover for me, will you?”

           “Er- I–”

           “Thanks, dude!” Dan ran off to join the party.

          Stanley, now alone, cut out tickets and exchanged them for money from the crowd. He glanced back at the window.

          He jumped as Stanford ran outside and stopped by him. “Stanley!” he hissed. “I’ve got a problem!”

           “Wait- what?” Stanley tore off a few more tickets.

           “I just challenged this guy to a dance competition!” Stanford groaned. “I don’t know how to dance! I-I think I can sing, but they’re expecting me to dance!”

          Stanley thought for a moment. “Hmm… I like dancing.”

           “We could switch,” Stanford offered and then hesitated. “But I need to be there, too, to switch out.”

          Stanley cut off a few more tickets. “If only we could be in two places at once, eh?”

          Stanford bit his tongue. The copier! They really shouldn’t use it but… Stanford glanced back at the party. It would be an excellent opportunity to study the effects of the machine on a person- perhaps see if it can completely copy a person and how well that copied person would function. _“I’m good at logic,”_ Stanford thought to himself. “Okay. I’ll wait here. Hurry!”

 

          Stanley opened the top of the copier and crawled on top of it. He just barely fit. He tapped a button on it. “I wonder if this is a good idea.” A green light flashed as the laser passed over his body. Once the green light faded and the paper printed, Stanley sat up and looked down at the paper as it fell to the floor. It shivered, crumpled, and then changed as the black-and-white figure of Stanley stood up and gained color. Stanley-2 stood up straight and looked back. He looked exactly like Stanley- save for the missing mackerel symbol on his shirt.

          Stanley breathed, “Whoa!” He jumped down to meet his printed doppelganger. “Hmm… you’re a bit pale, but good enough. I will call you: Number two!”

           “Ah, no,” Copy-Stanley denied. “That won’t work. How about…” he thought for a moment. “Andrew!”

           “Andrew? Okay.” Stanley shrugged. “You know the plan, right?”

           “Couldn’t forget it!”

           “Hey, uh, before we go…” Stanley took a deep breath. “We aren’t going to, you know, become jealous or something and attack each other, will we? Like in the movies?”

           “Of course not!” Andrew huffed. “We’re _way_ too good for that. Besides, you could always splash me with water, right?”

           “Oh yeeeeah,” Stanley agreed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Tell Ford to meet me in the attic!”

           “Gotcha!”

 

           “Let the battle for the party crown BEGIN!” Fiddleford announced. Stanley, now dressed in Stanford’s blue suit and glasses, ran to the middle of the dancefloor and, now that he was in the spotlight, danced like his feet were on fire. “Stanford comes out strong! Watch out, Preston!”

          Stanford, now in Stanley’s pink suit, leaned on the doorway. “Hey, Stanley!” Stanford turned to see Hank and Nicolas- or, rather, tried to see them. Without his glasses, Stanford couldn’t see that well.

           “Eh, hello,” Stanford greeted, mimicking Stanley’s voice to the pitch. Man, tricking and pranking people back home really came in handy, didn’t it?

          Nick exclaimed, “You probably didn’t see it being at the ticket stand, but your bro totally challenged Preston Northwest to a party-off!”

           “Really?” Stanford turned to look at his brother, who was doing well considering they didn’t take lessons. “Who’s this Preston jerk?”

          Hank sighed. “He’s the son of those rich capitalists up the drive.”

           “Preston Northwest,” Nick agreed. “His family lived in that big mansion and they can make anyone in town do whatever they want just by talking to them. You can’t challenge them. I guess since you two are new here, you guys didn’t know that.” He looked over at Stanley. “But your bro’s doing pretty well. Maybe he is a challenge!”

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, he’s a good dancer.” He looked about. “I think I should be checkin’ out the food table.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the snack table. Indeed, they were running low on cups and plates.

          Grauntie Mabel spotted him and, a plate of marshmallows in her hand, strolled past him. “Plates and cups are in the kitchen, Stanford.”

           “Okay, thanks.” Stanford about walked off when he realized what Grauntie Mabel had just said. “Uh, I’m Stanley.”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “I know what a fake looks like, Fordsy. Wear gloves next time.” With that, she met up with some adults at the end of the food table. Stanford had to stop himself from hitting himself in the head. Well, no one else seemed to notice. Grauntie Mabel probably overheard them or something.

          By the time Stanford had finished up refilling the plates and cups, Stanley had finished his part in the dance. He patted Stanford on the head, led him to the hall, and gave Stanford his glasses back. “So,” Stanley wheezed. “I mean, I can’t sing. That’s probably the only thing left.”

          Stanford smiled. “Thanks, bro! Also, I think Mabel might have overheard us. She knew who I was.”

           “Oh well. Now, win us that crown would you?”

 

          Stanford, now back in his blue tux, waited patiently near the stage. Preston sang his song. What was that about? Courage or being rich? It was probably the latter. Once Preston finished his song, he gave the mic back to Fiddleford and push past Stanford. Fiddleford smiled when he handed the mic to Stanford. “You try your best, Ford. Even if ya don’t win, I still believe in you.”

           “Thanks, man.” Ford walked over to the music box next to the stage and picked out his song.

 

          Stanley, now back in his blue suit, looked about for Dan. He found Dan standing by the staircase. Stanley perked up and then hesitated as, when he approached them, he found Janice there as well. Her guitar case propped up on the wall. Her bike, red and black, leaned against the wall next to her.

           “Hey, Dan!” Stanley greeted. “I, uh, found someone to take concessions.”

           “Oh, cool! You can hang out with Janice and me. Jan, you remember Lee from the convenience store, right?”

          Janice didn’t look at Lee. She fiddled with her guitar. “Uh, no. Hey, Dan, check out my new guitar.” She played a few strings. Indeed, the new guitar was loud and clear.

           “Whoa! Cool!”

          Janice opened an eye to look at Stanley and gave him a bet-you-wish-you-were-me smirk. Stanley narrowed is eyes at her. His walkie-talkie buzzed. Stanley picked it up and turned away from them. Andrew immediately answered, “Hey, dude. It’s me, you. I just had the same thought.”

           “Yeah we did!” Stanley huffed. “We need to do something about that arrogance of hers.”

           “Hey, Lee!” Dan called. Stanley looked up at him. “We’re gunna go sit on the couch! Meet us when you’re done!”

           “Oh no! They’re going to sit on the couch!” Stanley’s gaze flicked to the red and black bicycle. “I have an idea!”

          Andrew stated, “I do, too. But we’re going to need more help.”

 

           “And that’s where you come in, number three!” Stanley announced and wrote a ‘3’ on his shirt where Stanley’s symbol was supposed to be.

          Number three looked at Andrew, who sat on the desk, and Stanley. “What about Janice? If she catches me, I’ll be all alone!”

          Andrew and Stanley nodded. Andrew agreed, “Yeah, he makes a good point.”

          Stanley jumped up onto the copier machine. “Good point. One more. Four Stanleys. This is a four Stanley plan.”

 

          Inside, Stanford held the mic with both hands. Hank and Nick waved and held up their hands in a thumbs up. Grauntie Mabel pointed a finger gun at him. Stanford looked back at the music box as it began to play. “Don’t Start Un-Believing” popped up. It faded to the lyrics with dancers in the background.

           “ _Don’t start un-believin’! Never don’t not feel your feelin’s!_ ”

          The crowd cheered. Preston glared about the crowd.

          Stanley walked up to Fiddleford and whispered something. Fiddleford looked back at him and then spoke into the mic stand behind the equipment. “Would the owner of the red and black dirt bike report outside? It’s bein’ stolen.”

          Janice jumped to her feet. _“WHAT?!_ ” Outside, Number Three and Number Four, cloaked in the two helmets Janice had with her, rode away. “Hey! Get back here!” Janice yelled as she chased them.

          Stanley sat down on the arm of the couch. “Wow. Tough luck. I wonder who those guys were.”

           “Cheap dudes,” Dan agreed dryly and shook his head. “Hate people like them.”

           “Right. They’re terrible,” Stanley agreed with a nervous smile.

          Stanford as he was now no longer on stage, stood with Nick and Hank. Fiddleford looked over his list. “Okay, it’s time to bring it down a notch!” He looked over the song he was about to play. “Ladies, gentleman, it’s your time.” The music softened into a slow dance. Couples all around the dancefloor partnered up. Even people who did not know each other formally asked to dance. Stanford fled from the scene and sat down on the chair farthest away from the dance floor.

           “Oh jeez.” Stanley got up and walked over to his brother, who nervously ran his fingers over his long empty cup. The few drops of soda left had crusted on the bottom. Stanley plopped down on the chair next to him. “’Sup bro?”

          Stanford jumped as if shocked. “Oh! Hey, Stanley. Um… I thought you were hanging out with Dan.”

           “I was.” Stanley shrugged. “Now I’m here. You look like the Gobblewonker just tried to eat you!”

           “We know that Gobblewonker was a machine,” Stanford denied with a wave of his hand.

          Stanley looked into the crowd. “So, nice song. She probably thinks so, too.” Stanley nodded his head to a girl on the edge of the crowd. She swayed on her feet and held close her cup that probably didn’t have anything in it.

           “Well, yeah. It’s a good song,” Stanford agreed with a casual shrug. “But, uh, I think I’ll sit this one out.”

          Stanley pushed Stanford, which caused him to stumble out of his chair. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

          Stanford looked back at him. “What the heck?”

          Stanley jumped up and stood beside Stanford. “I’m behind you, bro.” He set his hands on Stanford’s back as if to push him. Stanford immediately took a few steps forward to avoid being pushed. He looked back at the dance floor, attempted to take a step forward, and then fled.

          Stanley sighed and shook his head. He filled up another cup with soda and strolled into the hallway with a bathroom. He found Stanford sitting by the corner, fervently scribbling in his notebook. Stanford didn’t notice him approach. Hand held behind his back, Stanley looked over his shoulder. Stanford drew a picture of some sort of half-cow, half-woman next to a half-man, half-bull. “What’s that?”

           “M-my theory on manotaurs and minotaurs,” Stanford answered, not lifting his gaze. “Manotaurs are purely male. I saw no females. When prompted, they changed the subject. I theorize they’re purely a male race. Minotaurs might be a purely female race. But the two stay separated for unknown reasons and the manotaur seem to fear the female race. I have so many theories about why, but no solid evidence to support too many of them.”

           “You spend way too much time in that book of yours,” Stanley pointed out.

           “N-no I don’t,” Stanford denied. He concentrated more on the hooves and fingers, now. Stanford was a very fast sketcher. Then again, he’d probably been working on that picture before.

          Stanley crossed his arms in front of him, now. Although he was tempted to take away the pad and pen and pushed Stanford into the dancefloor again, he knew it’d only end in tragedy. Everyone had their stress relievers. Stanley liked punching things. Stanford liked his theories and mysteries. If he was especially overstimulated or unable to think clearly, he turned to sketching. If both stress relievers were taken away, it only got worse- just like anyone else. “Well, what about the, uh… the gnomes?”

           “Gnomes?” Stanford looked up at him.

           “Yeah. We only saw dudes. They mentioned a queen. Do you think the queen made all of them?” Stanley didn’t need to look down to see Stanford’s face light up.

          Stanford started rambling on about how gnomes couldn’t use just one female to produce more gnomes lest they fall into incest. Or maybe they worked like bees, but with male workers rather than female. Perhaps they worked like some breed of fish where, if only females were present, one would become a male but the opposite with gnomes. Stanley didn’t really comment too often. It’s not like he knew anything about what Stanford was talking about. However, he was not only learning something the fun way, but calming down his brother.

          Eventually, Stanford got thirsty talking so much. Stanley handed him the soda he poured himself. “But, I haven’t gotten to know them well,” Stanford explained. “I wish I could talk to them myself, but I don’t want to become an offering again.”

          Stanley, as nonchalantly as he could, prompted, “How would they compare to people?”

           “Compare to humans?” Stanford prompted. “Um… well, they’re not really _people_ \- or close to them. They look the closest to humans than any of the others I’ve seen- save for the ghosts, but that’s a given. Their proportions are very odd.”

           “Do you think they’d be able to ask a girl gnome to dance?”

          Stanley shrugged. “I don’t know. Jeff seems to be the smartest and cockiest of them. So probably. Shmebulock is an odd character, though. Since I haven’t gotten to really know them–”

           “I wasn’t really talking about _them_ , dufus,” Stanley scolded with a smirk. “I was talking about the world’s greatest nerd.”

          Stanley looked back down at his pad. Stanley couldn’t see his face now, but in the split second between when Stanley had spoken and Stanford turned his head down, he could see a pinkish tinge on his cheeks. “W-well, um… no. Oh, but, uh, it looks like the song changed, anyway.”

           “So, it’s a mystery for another day?” Stanley teased.

           “Pssh. No.” Stanford shrugged and put away his things.

           “Oh! You mean I could walk straight up to Fidds and ask him to change the song?” Stanley asked.

           “Don’t you dare!” Stanford stood up. Although he looked annoyed, Stanley couldn’t hear any irritation in his voice.

          Stanley pushed himself off the wall so that he stood up straight. “How about we go enjoy the music? Fidds worked pretty hard on it.”

          Stanford nodded. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Sure.”

          Fiddleford called over the mic, “It’s almost time for the next song! Party goers, get ready to dance!”

          Stanford looked down the hall. “Or, you know, I could sit this one out. Competitions aren’t really for me.”

           “You got yourself into this,” Stanley warned. “Now it’s your turn.”

          Stanford held up his hands. “Why don’t you just take my place again? You know, win this together?”

           “Nah, bro. You can do it.” Stanley pushed him in the direction of the dance floor. “I’ll watch!”

          Stanford took a deep breath and walked off. “If I die, Stanley, I’m coming back and haunting you. I know it’s possible!”

           “I do, too!” Stanley called after him. “Don’t go down without a fight!”

          Soon, Stanford was out on the dance floor. Andrew appeared next to him. “He’s going to embarrass himself and blame you forever. You know, that, right?”

           “I’m tired!” Stanley defended himself. “Besides, don’t you think he needs ta know this?”

           “Losing?” Andrew prompted. “He does that enough in boxing practice.”

           “You’re a spoil sport,” Stanley countered.

           “Wait, weren’t we supposed to be doing something?” Andrew prompted.

          Stanley thought for a moment and then gasped. “Oh, yeah! You don’t think Janice came back, do you?” The two raced to the end of the hall. Unfortunately, Stanley’s suspicions came true.

          Dan and Janice leaned on the wall on the other side of the room. Janice whispered something to Dan. Dan laughed and gently shoved her. “Jan!”

          Stanley and Andrew sighed. “We blew it.”

           “Oh well.” Stanley shrugged. “I guess they’re still friends or whatever.”

           “Want to go grab a few sodas?” Andrew prompted.

           “Oh, sure!”

 

          The two sat on the roof of the Mystery Shack. Stanley took out a soda from the ice box and handed it over to Andrew. “Well… that was a day,” Stanley commented. They opened their sodas at the same time.

          Andrew nodded. “Mhm.”

          Stanley looked at Andrew. “Do you think this whole thing is just stupid?”

          Andrew nodded. “Yeah, probably. I mean, what’s the harm, right? Besides, if we keep messing with her, Dan will find out and then Janice will just turn him against us.”

           “She’s an arrogant jerk,” Stanley agreed. “Who can play guitar and who rides a dirt bike.”

          _“Rode_ a dirt bike,” Andrew corrected. The two laughed and took a sip of their drink. Suddenly, a hole appeared in Andrew’s belly. “Oh no. Don’t look now.”

           “Andrew!” Stanley gasped.

           “It’s okay, dude.” Andrew dropped the soda can. “I had a good run. Just remember what I said, okay? For my sake!”

           “Yeah, dude,” Stanley answered as quickly as he could. Andrew melted into nothingness.

 

          The party calmed down as Stanford and Preston met Fiddleford up on stage. Fiddleford held up the party crown. “And the end! Now, it’s time ta give out the party crown! Our first contestant: Stanford!”

          Quite a few people in the crowd clapped. Grauntie Mabel elbowed the two ladies beside her and raised her hands so that Stanford could see her clapping. Hank and Nick, near the front, gave their support. Dan cut off his conversation with Janice to join in. Stanley got into the front row and whooped.

          Once the commotion died down, Fiddleford went on, “And our second contestant: Preston Northwest!” A few people clapped. However, upon meeting Preston’s glare, other people joined in. Fiddleford looked about the crowd. “Oh, uh… it’s a tie. Um…” Preston looked about the crowd. Laying on two of the chairs was Old Woman Chiu. He darted up to her and handed out a dollar bill of some sort. Old Woman Chiu woke up, took the money, and clapped. Preston returned to his station. Fiddleford looked at the old kook and then lowered the crown. “And the winner is Preston Northwest,” Fiddleford called.

          Preston took the crown from him and put it on his own head. “Don’t sound so sad, farmer boy. I told you I was going to win,” Preston whispered and took the mic. “Thank you everybody! Now who wants to go to the after party on my parents’ boat?”

          The crowd cheered, picked up Preston, and chanted, “Preston! Preston! Preston!” as they left.

          Fiddleford put away the mic. “If it’s any consolation, Ford, I thought you were pretty good.”

          Hank huffed, “Yeah. It’s only because he’s rich that people voted for him.”

          Stanford shrugged. “Yeah, but, um… he still won. Well, thank you guys for supporting me, anyway.”

          Stanley hopped up on stage and put an arm around him. “Hey! You can’t be good at everything! Leave some for me, bro.”

          Stanford laughed, but didn’t struggle out of his grasp. “You stop being so pushy and we have a deal!”

          Stanley looked down at Hank and Nick. “Oh, yeah! You’re the two my bro was standing up for, right? I’m Stanley!”

          Nick nodded. “Yeah! We already talked to you. Remember? We told you about how Stanford stood up to Preston?”

          Stanford chuckled and put a hand on the back of his head. “That, uh, was me. Stanley took over the first round of dancing.”

           “Whoa!” Nick gasped. “That’s so cool! We didn’t even notice. Hey, do you want to learn a few dance moves? My mom’s a pretty good dancer.”

           “U-uh, sure. Hey, Fidds!”

           “On it!” Fiddleford called back. He rushed around to his station and put in a new song.

 

  **B** LF ZIV FMRJFV, MVEVI GIB G **L** XSZMTV GSZG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha-ha! You probably thought _switch_ Stanford was going to copy himself! Stanford is much _a_ too cautious and knows _with_ people will think of him as a kid. Stanley, on the other hand, wants to be thought of as something other than a kid. That, and jealousy makes _z_ people do crazy things.  
>  Also: Everyone has those things- things that just make you lose it. Then there are things that cool you off- stress relievers. Through reading the journals and watching the show, I can deduce that theorizing, studying, and writing all help Stanford Classic. Punching was something I found in Stanley Classic. Since my stress relief is almost the exact same as Stanford, it was very easy writing it. Yay!


	8. Irrational Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year on June 18, Gravity Falls celebrates its founding. The tradition is called: Pioneer Day, a day where everything is made and dressed up to look as if it was 1863, the year of its founding. Stanfley and Stanford have never been to one of these. Unfortunately, they soon come to find out that Preston Northwest, great great grandson of the founder Nathaniel Northwest helps run this fair. Will Stanley and Stanford be able to get in the spirit of things, or will bad blood leech them of the joy and adventure to be?

          Stanley and Stanford sat in the back of Grauntie Mabel’s car. Grauntie Mabel leaned against her seat, growling unhappily as their car idled in the street. The two boys contented themselves to eat nacho chips. Stanley looked at their great aunt, then Stanford, and broke a few chips and stuck them in his cheeks. “Rawr!” He put his hands behind his head and spread his fingers out in a frill.

          Stanford looked at him and then laughed. It looked as if Stanley had large orange saber teeth. “What are you?”

           “I’m the Gobblewonker!” Stanley explained and then bit the bag of chips and shook his head. A few chips spilled into the seat next to him and one of his “fangs” broke.

           “Okay, don’t throw food around in the car,” Grauntie Mabel stated and then growled, “Ugh! What’s with this traffic?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “And why is it all… covered wagons!”

          Stanford and Stanley turned their attention away from each other. Stanford looked out the window. “Uh, what’s with all the covered wagons?”

           “And the cows?” Stanley agreed as he looked at a cow just outside his window.

          Grauntie Mabel backed up the car. “Pioneer Day! That’s what.”

           “I thought you liked dressing up as stuff, though,” Stanley pointed out.

           “Well, yeah,” Grauntie Mabel agreed and tried to drive down another road. She ended up nearly hitting a group of pedestrians. “I do! I mean, this is, like, one of the greatest mass-costume parties I’ve ever been to. But I forgot it was today and I don’t even have anything ready, yet!” She drove backwards and then stopped again as she nearly hit a wagon. “Oh no. They’ve circled the wagons! We’re trapped!” Around them, nearly a half dozen horse-drawn wagons walked in a circle around them.

          Stanford looked outside to see a cow nearly face-to-face with him. “You know, I have a good feeling about today.”

          Stanley and Stanford jumped out of the car and looked around. Stanford huffed, “Wow. Look at the town!” Stanford held up a post card of modern Gravity Falls and lowered it to compare it to the old-time decorated Gravity Falls. At first, the scene seemed to look a brownish gray. But then the very large pane of dirty glass was removed from in front of them. _“Fascinating,”_ Stanford thought as he looked about. _“Pioneer Day. The people of Gravity Falls go all out to mimic the time-period in which Gravity Falls was founded. It’s not difficult to believe such a small town would work together, though, since everyone knows everyone else by friend, relative, or rumor.”_

           “Pioneer Day,” Grauntie Mabel stated as she walked up behind them. “The day when Gravity Falls celebrates it’s founding by dressing up like people who founded it. You should try the butterscotch. They’re really good.”

          Thompson determined appeared beside them, waving a newspaper. “Welcome to 1983!”

          All sorts of very fun looking activates scattered about the town. In front of an old store, a sign said “CANDLES”. Next to it was a park table where a punch of people ate mutton. A man who looked like a very old version of Fiddleford, dressed in a racoon hat and holding a pan of gold, stood next to a sign that said “MINE FER GOLD”. Two kids watched what he was doing with upmost attention.

          Stanley gasped, “Gold Panning! Cool!”

          Beside that was a priest by a podium. A few people gathered around a man holding a woodpecker. “I now pronounce you: husband and wife,” the priest declared. The woodpecker pecked the man’s hand. The man, teary eyed, exclaimed: “I do!”

          Stanley tipped his head. “Uh… what’s that all about?”

          Stanford hesitated and then took out his book. “I think I saw this somewhere- oh! Right, back then, in Gravity Falls, it was legal to marry woodpeckers.”

           “It’s still legal,” the man married to the woodpecker stated. “ _Very_ legal.”

          An announcer, standing on a stage, called, “Come one and all for the opening ceremonies!”

          Stanley looked back at Grauntie Mabel. “Grauntie Mabel? Are you comin’?”

           “No thank you. I’ve got to get my care back to the Shack. But remember: if either of you come back talking like these people, you’re dead to me!” Grauntie Mabel narrowed here yes and looked between them. However, it wasn’t really a glare. They couldn’t see any irritation behind her eyes.

          Stanley looked at Stanford and then smiled. He closed an eye and held his hands up near his waist. “There's a carpetbagger in the turnip cellar!”

           “Well hornswabber my haversack!” Stanford exclaimed. They both spit on the ground and ran off, laughing like a pair of hyenas.

           “Dead to me!” Grauntie Mabel yelled after them.

          On the stage stood Sheriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland. Preston Northwest and his parents: Pacifica Northwest and Auldman Northwest sat in a few chairs with their golden retriever. While Sheriff Blubbs only had a racoon hat, Deputy Durland wore a pair of overalls, a racoon hat, and wielded a bell. “Here-ye, here-ye! Ye olde commencement ceremony is about to commence.”

          Deputy Durland whooped and rang his bell. “Woo! I got a bell!”

          In the audience, a robber swiped an old woman’s purse and darted away. The old lady gasped and then raised her hand. “Oh, no! Police, my purse!”

          Deputy Durland danced from foot to foot, still ringing his bell. “Ring, ring! Ring, ring! Woo!”

          Sheriff Blubs chuckled and shook his head. “He sure loves his bell.”

          Preston Northwest got up on stage. As he, too, was in the “spirit of things”, he wore the suit of a rich kid in the 1860’s. “Howdy, everyone! You all know me, Preston Northwest, great-great grandson of town-founder, Nathaniel Northwest.” He put a foot on a stone next to the mic to mimic the pose of the statue next to him of Nathaniel Northwest. “I’m also very rich.” He nodded, smiling. The crowd applauded him. Once the applause died down, Preston launched into his speech once more, “Now if you've got the pioneer spirit, we ask you to come on up and introduce yourself.”

          Stanley elbowed Stanford. “Hey! Audience participation!”

          Stanford raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know, Stanley. Don’t you two hate each other?”

           “That’s exactly why!” Stanley chuckled and ran up on stage.

          Preston perked up. “Our first newcomer is…” His eyes narrowed into a glare as he saw who’d come on stage. “Stanley…”

          Stanley hopped up to the microphone and set his foot so close to Preston’s, Preston was forced to take a step back lest his tediously clean shoe touched Stanley’s, which was covered in dirt and debris from running around outside. “Yeah! Let’s get this Pioneer Day started!” He looked about the crowd and raised a fist in the air. “USA! USA!”

          The crowd immediately chanted with him, “USA! USA!”

          Somewhere in the crowd, a man bearing an American Flag T-shirt and hat cried, “USA!” He sniffled and wiped his eyes with one arm. “USA!”

          Preston looked at the crowd and then back at Stanley. “I’m sorry, but Pioneer Day is for serious people native to Gravity Falls. You look and act ridiculous, city-boy.”

          Stanley glared back, “I can be serious!”

          Preston scoffed, “You do realize that shirt your wearing is absolutely ridiculous. It makes you look like a five-year-old. Wow, I’m embarrassed for you.” He raised his voice, “Give him a hand everybody!”

          The crowd clapped for him. Stanley, though, he lost his smile. He glared at Preston and stalked off stage. “Now who wants to hear more about me?” Preston asked, as if it was a question the crowd could say anything but yes to. Stanford ran around to the edge of the stage to meet him. Preston and the rest of his family, including his dog, stood at the front of the stage and smiled for a camera.

          Preston smiled. “Everyone say Northwest!”

           “Northwest!” Preston and his family said. The picture flashed.

          Preston chuckled. “We’re perfect.

          Stanford met Stanley as he stalked out into the street. “Hey, man! Are you okay?”

           “Ugh. Yeah,” Stanley grumbled.

          Stanford glared back at Preston. “Let’s just get out of here. We could get that old-time butterscotch Mabel was talking about.”

 

          At the edge of town, Grauntie Mabel’s car was stuck. One wheel scrambled frantically to get the car forward in the mud it was stuck in.

          A man with a donkey walked past them.

          Grauntie Mabel looked up. “Oh! Hey! You, uh, with the donkey!” The man stopped and looked at her. “Could you give me a hand with my car, please?”

           “Here in 1863,” the man stated. “I have never heard-tell of a _‘car’_ Pray-tell, what is this _magic wheel box_?”

          Grauntie Mabel groaned. “Ah, come on, Steve! You’re a mechanic! Cut me some slack.”

          Steve gave her a look of fake confusion. “‘Slack’? I am unfamiliar with this bold, new expression.”

          Grauntie Mabel sighed and opened her door. “You know what, I think I’ll do this myself.” Steve shrugged and walked off. Grauntie Mabel attempted to push the car out herself. However, it wasn’t really working out for her. The car was much too heavy to push out herself.

          Behind her, Gideon appeared. She turned around and crossed her arms. She chuckled at his nobleman attire. “Hello there, Gideon! You look less girly than usual!”

          Gideon smiled. “Thank you! It’s wonderful hearin’ that from you, sweet peach.”

           “Don’t call me that!” Grauntie Mabel growled.

           “I see you’re havin’ trouble with your car,” Gideon pointed out and smiled. “I could help you out if you want.”

           “And get your dainty suit dirty?” Mabel scoffed.

           “Anything for you, Dumplin’,” Gideon promised. “I can help push your car out for a kiss.”

          Grauntie Mabel took out a water bottle and splashed him in the face. He gasped and took a step back. He rubbed the water out of his eyes. “Get lost, Gideon!”

          Sheriff Blubs ran up to them, Durland at his side. “Are we gunna have to intervene here?”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled, “Oh, the ‘Constable.’ No, I’ve got this under control.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you going to do, anyway? Throw me in ‘ye stocks’?”

 

          Mabel, now locked in a set of stocks, glared at the small area in front of her. She sighed in irritation. “It’s 2007 all over again.” Bud, donned in old fashioned attire like his father, walked past her, humming a small tune. A tomato basket was in his arms. “Aw! You and your father match! Now in more ways than being a creep!”

          Bud stopped in front of her. “Oh, Mabel, I’m just a humble tomato farmer, sellin’ his wares. Whoops, I dropped one.” With a smile only an innocent kitten could pull off, Bud picked up a tomato and threw it at Mabel. It hit her right eye. “Oh, whoops! I dropped another one!” He threw the tomato at her other eye.

           “Ugh!” Mabel growled. “This is exactly 2007 again!”

 

          Stanford and Stanley sat on the steps below the “Nathaniel Northwest” statue. Stanley snacked on some butterscotch. He sighed. “Ford, can I ask you something? Do you think I’m silly?”

          Stanford didn’t look up at him. “Um… nooo?”

           “I knew it!” Stanley exclaimed. “The nacho teeth, this stupid shirt! I thought I was being funny or charmin’. Guess everyone just things I’m a big stupid joke.” He set an elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand.

          Stanford looked behind himself at the statue and stood up. “Ugh! Preston. Why would _he_ think that being related to the town founder means that he can treat everyone like garbage? Someone definitely needs to take him down a peg.” He gasped and turned around. “Wait a minute! I think I red something about Preston’s great-great grandfather before.” Stanley looked up at him as Stanford took out the journal and flipped through it. Stanford perked up. “Of course! Oh, this is perfect.” He sat down beside Stanley and held the book so that both of them could read it. “In my investigations, I recently made a discovery. Nathaniel Northwest may not be the true founder of Gravity Falls! I believe this secret is buried somewhere on the enclosed document. If only I could crack the code.”

          Stanley took the enclosed note taped to the journal and unfolded it. Symbols, letters, and words scrawled across it in a weird, indecipherable pattern. Stanley grinned. “Oh, man! If this cover-up is true, it means Preston’s whole family is a fake!”

          Stanford nodded. “This could be a _huge_ conspiracy!”

          Stanley looked at him. “Really?”

           “Yeah! We _have_ to investigate this,” Stanford replied.

          Stanley looked down at the encrypted page. “Oh-ho! If I help you crack this code, then no one could ever call me silly or stupid ever again!”

          Stanford held up a fist. “Mystery Twins?”

          Stanley fist-bumped him. “Mystery Twins!” Stanford put away his book and the two scampered off.

          Behind the statue, Sherriff Blubbs was pressed against the stone. He looked back at the retreating kids with a nervous grimace. He picked up his walk-talkie and clicked a button. “This is Sherriff Blubbs. We’ve got a code sepia!”

          A spit-take could be heard on the other end. “What?! And what are you doing about it?”

          Sherriff Blubbs answered, “I’m following them right now.”

           “Find them and stop them,” the dispatcher ordered. “There’s no room for error.”

           “I understand. Blubbs out.” He turned the walkie-talkie off and looked to his other side. Deputy Durland watched him, his eyes contracted and a frown on his face. “Deputy Durland, maintaining this cover-up is the mission we've been training for our entire careers. Are you ready?”

          Deputy Durland, not straying from his own serious aura, waved his bell. “Woo!”

          Sherriff Blubbs chuckled. “If being delightful was a crime, you’d be breaking the law!”

          Deputy Durland smiled again. “Let’s go get ’em!”

          The two whooped and raced down the steps of the statue.

 

          Within the library, four kids sat around a chair by the fire. Old Woman Chiu, a racoon hat on her head and a book in her hands, looked about at the children. “Back in the olden days, pioneers drew sustenance from telling stories ‘round the fire. So, let’s eat some books, children! Go ahead, eat the books!” The children watched as Old Woman Chiu ate a corner of the book she held.

           “Alright, Stanley,” Stanford announced as he picked through a few books on the shelf in front of him, “Once we prove Nathaniel Northwest wasn’t the real founder of Gravity Falls, it will finally put Preston in his place.”

          Stanley nodded and ate a few butterscotch pieces. “Yeah! He won’t be able to mess with any of us again. I don’t even need to punch him!”

          Stanford chuckled. “Stanley!”

           “It’s true!”

          Stanford shook his head and put something into the projector. “Now, we just need to crack this code. Let me see…” He started to flip through pictures on the projector. “It’s not Egyptian. It’s not numerology. It’s not- wait, of course!” He held up the paper to compare it to the picture on the wall. The code was contained within a large triangle with a small eye at the top. A curve or swirl was on the reaches of the edge. “The triangle is the alchemist symbol for _flame._ Lighting the parchment on fire will reveal the secret message!”

          Stanley gasped. “It’s so obvious!”

          Stanford set down the paper and took a burning candle next to them. “Okay, now let’s light this paper and- Stanley!”

          Stanley grinned. “I made it into a hat! What? We’re going to _burn_ it, anyway, right?”

           “No, I mean look! You folded it into a map!” Stanford pointed out. He looked at the candle he was holding. “I was going to burn it.” _Think before you act, stupid. You’re lucky Stanley was there._

          The kids turned to look at the entrance to the library as Sherriff Blubbs started to speak. “We’re on the lookout for two kids who might be reading.”

          Durland hopped on his feet. “We’re hunting them down for secret reasons!” He rang his bell. “Whoo!”

          Stanford turned off the projector and the kids hid under the table.

          Deputy Durland smacked a few books off the shelf with a “ _Derp!_ ” before following Sherriff Blubbs farther into the library.

          Stanford looked at Stanley. “Maybe we should take this elsewhere…”

          Stanley took off his new hat and inspected it. “This should lead us to…”

 

           “…The Gravity Falls Museum of History,” Stanford finished. Before them was the large, roman-esc building alive with flags, statues, and the sketched banner: “GRAVITY FALLS MUSEUM OF HISTORY”.

          Stanley put on a devilish grin. “Do you know what this means, Ford?”

           “…what?”

           “We’re going to have to _break in._ ”

          Stanford walked ahead of him. Stanley, on his toes and looking about, followed. They met a woman just inside of the museum with a stand of balloons. “…and here are your free Pioneer Day passes,” she clipped a pin to Stanford’s jacket and Stanley’s shirt. “-and your balloons. Blue and red.” She gave a blue balloon to Stanford and a red one to Stanley.

           “We’re in,” Stanley announced in a dramatic voice.

          Stanford waved at the woman as they left and then looked ahead again. “We didn’t need to _break into_ anything.”

          Stanley shrugged. “Eh. We might’ve. Now, what’s next? Are we going to steal Thomas Jefferson’s rib cage?”

           “Eww, no!” Stanford rejected and then looked down at the hat-map. He stopped walking as he nearly bumped into a taxidermy buffalo. “According to the map, the next clue about the real town founder should be right… here!” They stopped in front of a triangular exhibition piece. It looked a lot like random paper layering with Paper-Mache glue. Stanford put his hands on his hips. “We need to figure this one out soon. I have a feeling those policemen weren’t at the library to check out books.”

          Stanley nodded. “I don’t think the one with the bell can read…”

           “So, what is it, anyway?” Stanford looked up at the picture. He tipped his head and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see it from a new angle and understand it.

          Stanley frowned and sat down. “Well, this is boring.” He lay his head back and then, upon remember that he was supposed to help decode it, flipped onto his back so that his head touched the ground and feet draped over the head of the bench. “Whoa! Ford!”

          Stanford turned around. “What?”

          Stanley pointed at the painting. “Come here! Look at it!”

          Stanford sat down on the bench and turned around so that his head touched the floor, too. The paper art took the form of an angel with closed eyes, a book in one hand and her finger pointing to the right. “It’s not abstract! It’s upside down! Wow, Stanley, you’re good at this!”

          Stanley grinned. “You know, I think I’ve seen that statue at the cemetery.”

           “Cemetery? Let’s go! Quick!” Stanford jumped up and then immediately staggered forward and planted one hand on the wall to keep himself up. “Oooooh dizzy.”

           “Head rush,” Stanley agreed, a hand on his head. After the two shook off their dizziness, they ran to the entrance of the museum.

          Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland were at the entrance. Sherriff Blubbs held a blue balloon. The balloon lady shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we’re all out of pink balloons.”

          Deputy Durland sighed, “Why did we even come?”

          Sherriff Blubbs’ walkie talkie hissed. “Officer Blubbs.”

          He let go of the balloon and ran a bit deeper into the museum so that he was out of earshot. “Blubbs here.”

           “Have the targets been apprehended?” the dispatcher prompted.

           “Negative,” Sherriff Blubbs stated. “-but we’re close. I promise, those kids’ll never get past us.” Stanford and Stanley darted past them. “HEY! Wait!” Sherriff Blubbs yelled and ran after them. The kids managed to escape the museum, while Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland got stuck in the door attempting to leave at the same time. “Dangit!”

 

          Within a small, wooden house decorated with the banner “JUST MARRIED”, a man and his new woodpecker wife sat at the table. The woodpecker pecked at the table.

           “For the last time: We’re not flying south for the winter! Our home is here!” the man stated.

          The woodpecker pecked at the wood again.

           “Ugh! That’s what you always say!” The man got up and stormed outside. Just outside of his house was the stocks that Mabel was in.

          She held a hairclip in her mouth and attempted to pick the lock with it. “Come on, come on!” It fell out of her mouth. “Ugh. Darnit.”

          Preston picked up the hairpin and smiled. “Well, hello there, Mabel. You’re Stanley’s aunt, aren’t you?” He looked at the pin. “Looking for this?”

          Mabel nodded. “Yes, actually. Did you want something?”

          Preston grinned. “I want you to say that the Northwest family is the best family in Gravity Falls.”

          Mabel raised an eyebrow at him. “Want that in writing?”

          Preston gave her a pen, which she held with her mouth, and he held a pad of paper. “And… there you go!” She dropped the pen in Preston’s hand. He looked over the note and grimaced. _“YOU STINK!”_ was written in very sloppy letters. “Ha-ha! I did that with my mouth!”

          Preston glared at her and then turned to the people gathered at the tomato stand. He whistled. The four people carrying two baskets of tomatoes turned around and then grinned and picked up tomatoes that they’d bought.

          Grauntie Mabel sighed. “I should have expected that.”

 

          Stanford and Stanley stood in front of the angel statue holding a book and pointing off into the distance. Stanford looked over the statue. “Hmm… that statue must be pointing to our next clue.” He turned his gaze in the direction the statue was pointing.

          Stanley walked up to the statue and hopped onto the pedestal it was on. He set his cheek on the thing’s hand and looked down her finger like a scope. “Bro, I don’t see anything.” He looked down at the finger. He turned his head to look up and, turning his hands into a handgun, pretended to fire at birds that flew above them. He accidently bumped to the stone statue’s finger and made it point up. A whole section of ground in front of them shuttered and fell away to reveal a staircase.

           “Whoa!” Stanford gasped. “Nice job, Stanley!” With that, he ran down the steps, a flashlight in his hands.

          Stanley let go of the statue with a chuckle. “Who’s stupid now, Preston?” He hopped onto the staircase and followed Stanford. He ate another butterscotch as they walked. “Now we’re really gettin’ into the thick of things.”

           “Okay, look out for booby traps,” Stanford warned and looked about.

          Stanley laughed, “Ha! Booby traps.” Without paying attention to where he was stepping, Stanley landed on a tile raised about three or four inches up with a triangle indent in it. He looked down and Stanford stopped. A dart shot out of a wall and barely passed them.

           “Tranquilizer darts!” Stanford gasped.

           “On it! Toward adventure!” Stanley grabbed Stanford’s wrist and charged through the hallway. They both hopped or ducked whenever necessary to dodge the darts. Eventually, Stanley tripped and fell into a tunnel. Stanford was dragged down with him, even after they let go.

          The two boys screamed as they slid down the tunnel and into a small stone room filled with cabinets, treasure chests, files, seemingly random objects, the first flag of the confederate states of America, and a projector. Stanford’s flashlight lit up the dusty, cobweb-filled room.

           “Whoa,” Stanford breathed, his eyes round as an owl’s as he inspected the place. “This place is a treasure trove of history!”

          Stanley picked up a file labeled “TOP SECRET”. The first was a comparison picture of Abraham Lincoln wearing his hat on the left and Abraham Lincoln without his hat on the right. The picture of Lincoln without his hat showed a hand attached to the top of his head. The next picture was of Benjamin Franklin wearing earrings. Stanley held out the paper for Stanford to see. “O-ho man! Ben Franklin secretly _was_ a woman!”

           “Hey, jackpot!” Stanford shined his flashlight on a file labeled “THE NORTHWEST COVER-UP” A US document seal was in the center and a “TOP SECRET” stamp was near the bottom. He opened the file to reveal the first document, which was mostly words with a picture of Nathaniel on the right. “‘Now we’ll find out who the real town founder was!” Stanford red aloud as Stanley joined him, “Let it be here recorded that Nathaniel Northwest, fabled founder of Gravity Falls, was, in fact, a fraud… as well as a waste-shoveling village idiot’?”

          Stanley burst out laughing. “Oh, bad news for Preston. Wait’ll the papers hear about this! Once people see that I uncovered a historical conspiracy, they can never call me silly!”

          Stanford continued reading, “‘The true founder of Gravity Falls was sir lord, Quentin Trembley III, Esquire.’ Huh?”

           “Who’s that?” Stanley prompted and tipped his head.

           “That’s none of your business!” The two flinched and spun around. Sherriff Blubbs stalked into the room, Deputy Durland at his side. His flashlight shone right at them like a spotlight.

          Deputy Durland rang his bell. “Woo! We gotcha! Whoo!” His voice grew weak and he wavered. “Whoo…! Hmm… whoo-whoo…” He collapsed. Several tranquilizer darts stuck to his back.

           “He got hit with quite a few of those darts,” Sherriff Blubbs explained. He turned off his flashlight. He then went on in a cool voice, “I hate to do this, but Quentin Trembley’s a matter of national security.”

          Deputy Durland staggered to his feet. “Yeah! Ye…ah…” He set his hands on his knees and bent forward. “Woo. I think I might be colorblind, now.”

          Of all the times these policemen could get off their butts and do their job, it had to be against them? Stanford asked, “What do you mean, ‘national security’?”

          Stanley piped up, “Who’s this Trembley guy, anyway?”

          Sherriff Blubbs took out a reel of film from his hat. “See for yourself.” He put the reel of film into the projector. The projection screen flickered on and revealed a countdown in black and white.”

           “Aw, it’s black and white?” Stanley groaned.

           “Hush!” Stanford whispered.

          A screen with the words “TOP SECRET” and “US GOVERNMENT” with an official US seal between them flicked on after the countdown. It immediately went to a man in a suit in what looked like the president’s office. The man stated, “If you're watching this, then you are one of eight people in these United States with clearance to view this information. In fact, I myself will be shot as soon as the filming is complete.” He looked offscreen. “What? No? Ho! Well, that's a relief!” He turned back to the camera, expression grim and serious. “Of all of America’s secrets, the most embarrassing was that of-” The screen changed to a round portrait of a man with a long chin, a mustache, sideburns, and long nose. Two flags were on either side- one was the confederate flag and the other was a six-starred flag. His entire name was on a plate below his name. “-Quentin Trembley: The eighth-and-a-half president of the United States.”

           “President?” Stanford breathed. He never remembered a president named Quentin Trembley. The name was so unique anyone could remember it. _George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin Van Buren, and William Henry Harrison were the first nine presidents. Where was sir, lord, Quentin Trembley III, Esquire?_

           “Eighth-and-a-half?” Stanley prompted.

          The government official went on, “After winning the 1837 election in a landslide-” The screen flicked to a picture of Quentin Trembley standing on stage with the other candidate. A landslide killed all other candidates. “-Quentin Trembley quickly gained a reputation as America’s silliest president.”

          As the official went on, the screen changed to different scenes revolved around President Quentin Trembley. “He waged war on pancakes, appointed six babies to the supreme court, and issued the de-pants-ipation proclamation.” The president, not wearing any pants, held out a poster that red “NO PANTS”. A pair of pants with a circle and line through it dressed most of the poster. “His state of the union speech was even worse.”

          The screen played a reenacted recording of President Quentin Trembley’s speech. “The only thing we have to fear is gigantic, man-eating spiders!”

          The government official went on, “He was kicked out of office and escaped to an uncharted valley he named Gravity Falls, after plummeting into it at high speed.” It showed a picture of him riding a horse backwards and plummeting into the valley. “Trembley’s shameful term was erased from history and officially replaced by William Henry Harrison as President-” An upside-down picture of Quentin Trembley was replaced by a picture of President William Henry Harrison. It went to another picture, this time a framed one on top of a desk, of him which was replaced by one of Nathaniel Northwest. “-and local nobody Nathaniel Northwest as founder of Gravity Falls. The whereabouts of President Trembley’s body are unknown.” The video stopped.

          Sherriff Blubbs went on, “Until now.” He gestured to the other side of the room where a giant amber-colored, translucent square with the eight-and-a-half president inside.

           “Whoa,” Stanford gasped. “Is that amber?” It was a bit light in color to be amber, but he couldn’t think of another substance with those properties.

          Sherriff Blubbs shook his head. “The fool thought he could live forever by encasing himself in a block of solid peanut brittle. Smooth move, Mr. President! Finding Trembley’s body was our special mission. And now, thanks to you, it’s complete.”

          Deputy Durland chuckled and held up a candy wrapper. “Who knew all we had to do was follow a little boy’s trail of candy wrappers?”

          Stanley hit himself in the face. “Ugh! Stupid!”

          Sherriff Blubbs stated, “Now that you know the truth, well, we can’t let you go around talkin’ about it.”

          Stanford’s eyes went round. “Does that mean–?”

           “Are you going to kill us?” Stanley burst out.

          Deputy Durland gasped in horror. “OH NO!”

           “No, no,” Sherriff Blubbs cut in quickly. He turned to Deputy Durland. “Calm down, now, buddy, calm down.” Deputy Durland nodded and straightened himself out. He turned back to the twins. “We’re just gunna escort you and all this stuff back to Washington.” He walked to their other side. “You ain’t comin’ back, by the way.”

          Stanley puffed out his chest. “Oh yeah? I dare you to try!”

 

          Stanford and Stanley beat on one of the sides of the wooden crate. “Anyone there? Help! Help!” Stanford called.

           “Let us out!” Stanley demanded. Eventually, he sighed and turned around so that his back was to the wood. Stanford did the same. “I can’t believe I left a trail of _candy wrappers.”_ He slid down to the floor. “Ugh, this is all my fault. Preston had me all along. I’m just a dumb failure.”

           “Don’t say that, man.” Stanford sat next to him, cross-legged. “You did do a lot of the work in this investigation. You figured out a bunch of stuff I wouldn’t have ever thought of. You’re not dumb and you’re not a failure. Anyone can slip up.”

           “Easy for you to say,” Stanley muttered and took a chunk out of the peanut brittle beside him. The peanut brittle cracked and shattered. The boys jumped up with a scream of fright. They stepped back as far away as they could as the peanut brittle case shattered and fell apart.

          Now freed, President Quentin Trembley declared, “It is I, Quentin Trembley.” He tore off his pants.

           “You’re alive?!” Stanford gasped. “But how?!”

           “Peanut brittle really can make you live forever. You’re not silly, you’re a genius!” Stanley exclaimed.

           “And so are you, dear boy, for following my clues and freeing me from my delicious tomb!” President Trembley agreed.

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, he’s right! Turning the map into a hat, hanging up-side down; your silliness solved a case serious cops, and the Author, couldn’t crack in a hundred years!”

           “Oh, stop it!” Stanley laughed.

           “By Jefferson!” President Trembley exclaimed and looked about. “We seem to be trapped in some sort of crate-shaped box!”

          Stanley nodded. “It’s a crate, Mr. President.”

          President Trembley pulled a key out of his jacket. “Good thing I have the President’s Key, which can open any lock in America!” He marched over to one side of the crate and then repeatedly stabbed the wood in different places with the key.

          Stanford raised his hand. “I… don’t think that’s going to work.”

           “Wood! My age-old enemy,” President Trembley stated. “In order to get out of here, this is going to take the silliest plan ever conceived.”

          Stanford elbowed Stanley. “I think I know someone who can help.”

          Stanley looked about and then pointed to a small hole near the bottom of one of the sides. “How ’bout… that hole!”

          President Trembley nodded. “We will leap through it!” The two dove at the wooden hole only big enough for one of Stanley’s fingers to get through. “Almost. Almost there, good! Keep pushing!” President Trembley encouraged.

          Stanford raised an eyebrow. “Um… I don’t think that’s working.”

           “Fiddlesticks! Keep going!” President Trembley ordered.

          Outside, a wood pecker fluttered onto the wooden ground in front of the hole. It pecked at Stanley’s finger. He immediately withdrew his hand. The woodpecker, interested in a potential meal, pecked repeatedly at the wood.

          President Trembley cocked his head. “Is that my third wife? Sandy?” A wooden panel containing the hole fell off. The box promptly fell apart. The woodpecker, spooked and without a meal, fluttered off. “Well, we didn’t fit through the hole. Let’s rebuild the box and try again!”

          Stanford shook his head and picked up the papers declaring the Northwest Family’s illegitimacy. “We have to get out of here!”

           “Also good!” President Trembley agreed.

          Stanford opened the door at the far end of the train. Deputy Durland, who had been filling up his bucket with ice, spotted them. He dropped the bucket in an instant. “Blubbs!” Sherriff Blubbs appeared.

          The three immediately fled.

          When they reached the other end of the cart, they found the “EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY” door. Next to it was a ladder up to the roof exit hatch. President Trembley took out his key and banged it against the hatch despite it not having a lock. Stanford took the key from him and opened the hatch. All three people crawled out on the roof and, fighting the wind resistance, made their way forward. Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland crawled onto the roof and chased them. Eventually, they got to the end of the passenger carts. A cart full of logs blocked their way.

          The trio stopped and turned around. Sherriff Blubbs, out of breath, walked forward. Deputy Durland stayed close behind. Sherriff Blubbs wheezed, “There is no escape! …I gotta take a knee.” He got down on one knee, a hand on his chest.

           “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” Deputy Durland prompted.

          Sherriff Blubbs looked up at him. “Edwin, darlin’, you are a diamond in the rough.”

          Stanford took a step forward. “Sherriff Blubs, do you _really_ want to lock us all up in a government facility somewhere?”

           “I’ve got no choice!” Sheriff Blubbs countered. “Our orders come from the very top!”

          An idea popped into Stanford’s head. “Wait! President Trembley, did you ever sign an official resignation?”

           “So, sir. I ate a salamander and jumped out the window,” President Trembley answered honestly.

           “Then… technically, you’re still legally the President of the United States, right?” Stanford turned to the policemen. “You have to answer to this guy, now!” Stanford tried not to show his nervousness. This was a whole load of malarkey. Even if Trembley didn’t step down, there was a term limit now. Not only that, but he was kicked out of office and replaced. He had no power here.

           “Huh?” Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland asked at the same time.

           “As president of these several United States, I hereby order you to pretend none of this ever happened. And- and go on a delightful vacation,” President Trembley ordered. As the train moved, a metal rail flew over them. Quentin Trembley staggered forward as he was hit in the head with it. How he wasn’t dead was beyond Stanford. “Ow! Mmm yeeeees!”

           “Vacation?” Sherriff Blubbs prompted. He turned to Deputy Durland. “What place have you always wanted to visit? One, two–”

          The two spoke at the same time, “Silly Water Fun Slides in Grand Lakes, Michigan!”

 

          Hours later, they were dropped off back at Gravity Falls. Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland, now donned in floral shirts, stuck their heads out of the window and waved good-bye. “Bye-bye! Bye!”

          Once the train departed, President Trembley got down on one knee and put a hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “You’ve done a great service to your country, Stanley. As thanks, I’d like to make you an official U.S. congressman.” He unfolded a black top hat with a red stripe on the base and handed it to Stanley.

          Stanley put it on and declared, “I’m legalizing everything!”

          _That is so Stanley_ , Stanford couldn’t help but think and chuckle. Oh, if Stanley ever got the power to legalize things, the United States would be in great trouble.

          President Trembley stood up and turned to Stanlford. “And Roderick,”

           “Er, it’s Sta–”

           “You, dear boy, are on your way to unlocking the mysteries of this great land,” President Trembley stated. “So, I’d like you to have my President’s Key!”

 

          Back in town, Trembley waved his hands as he told a story. “…and then he chased me around and spanked me with a paddle for, like, three hours. Bottom line, George Washington was a jerk.”

           “A-greed!” Stanley nodded.

          A few yards away, Preston, Priscilla, and another rich boy watched as four girls ran in circles around a pole, ribbons in their hands. Shmabel tripped but caught herself before she could fall. “Oh!”

          Preston nodded. “Kick her off the team.” Priscilla and the other boy stalked over to the pole.

          Stanley ran over to Preston. “Hey, Preston! I just uncovered a government conspiracy about the eighth-and-a-half president of the United States! Who’s silly now?”

          Preston looked at him and then at Trembley as he chased a bald eagle with his fists raised. “What? Who is that idiot?”

          Stanley shrugged. “The eighth-and-a-half president of America. How’s he still alive? Well, turns out you can hibernate in peanut brittle and it–”

          Preston burst into laughter. “Wow! You really are a sad, dumb little boy. Nice top hat, by the way.” A few feet away, Prestons’ mother and father, Pacifica and Auldman Northwest, chuckled. Strangely, Pacifica’s smile was not as wide as her husband’s.

          Auldman laughed, “Good one, son.”

          Preston put a hand to his face in mock empathy. “Oh no! It looks like your car is stuck in the mud!” Preston lowered his hand and smirked. “Good luck walking home.” With that, he and his parents got into a sedan.

          Stanley looked over at Stanford. “Aren’t you gunna tell him about his great grandpa?”

          Stanford shrugged. “You know, we’ve got nothing to prove. Being the way we are? It’s awesome and we have nothing to prove to the likes of them.”

          Stanley snatched away the paper. “Well I’ve learned nothin’.” He whistled and ran after the car. “Hey, Preston!”

          The car stopped and Preston rolled down his window.

          Stanley stuck the papers onto Preston’s lap. “Nathaniel Northwest didn’t found Gravity Falls and your whole family is a sham. Deal with it!”

          The car rolled off. Preston looked at Stanley in shock and then turned to his parents. “DAD!”

          Stanford joined Stanley by the road. Stanley grinned. “Wow! Revenge is underrated. That felt _awesome!_ ”

           “Children.” President Trembley set his hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “I am needed elsewhere. Just know that I’ll always be right here…” He pulled out a -12 bill with his face on it. “On the negative twelve-dollar bill.” He handed it to Stanford.

          Stanford looked over it and chuckled. “Wow! This is worthless!”

           “Less than worthless, my boy!” President Trembley corrected him. “Trembley, away!” He jumped back and landed backwards on the saddle of a black horse. The horse whinnied and cantered off.

          Stanley watched him go. “Where do you think he’ll go?”

           “Probably off a cliff,” Stanford replied. “Now, where’s Grauntie Mabel?”

 

          A few blocks away, they found their great aunt in stocks. She still had tomato juice on her. “…and then that Bud twerp came by again! Fiddleford talked to me for, like, an hour though before he had to leave. You’d think for a town that dresses up like the 1860’s, they’d have more than two people who know how to fix a wagon.”

          Stanley shook his head. “You’ve been through so much.”

          Stanford took out the President’s Key and unlocked the lock on Mabel’s stocks. The lock fell off. “It works!”

          Grauntie Mabel stood up straight and stretched. “Ugh. What time is it? Oh! What’s with the top hat?”

          Stanley puffed out his chest. “I am a congressman.”

           “Pardon me?”

           “You are officially pardoned,” Stanley declared.

          Mabel chuckled, “You will never start making sense, will you, kid?”

           “Nope!”

           “That’s my boy! Now, who wants to vandalize Gleeful’s house with tomatoes?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

           “Yeah!” the boys cheered and ran off to the tomato stand.

 

OLEV BL **F** I **U** OZDH, IRHV ZY **L** E YFOORVH, ZMW HGZB DVR **I** W

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeee-oo! This was a difficult _switch_ one! Not as difficult at Double-Dipper, _a_ but difficult. At least it was fun. Deputy Durland _with_ is kind of fun to write. So is Preston. Preston is more than jerk. _z_ He's an... advanced jerk.


	9. Time Traveler's Goat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grauntie Mabel has decided to rent a fair! Candy, food, games, prizes, no adult supervision- it's all two kids like Stanley and Stanford could ever ask for in a day! But when Stanley's attempt at meddling with Dan's friendship goes awry, he's taken to using unheard of methods of their time to fix his mistake. Will tampering with the very fabric of time reap the consequences they've always been warned about, or will they end up having a nice day at the fair?

          The morning sun stayed bright and happy over the Mystery Shack and the yard behind it. Most days, this yard was empty and the public wasn’t generally allowed near it. Today was different. Boxes, small buildings, and rides of all types of pastel colors were moved onto the property. Lines with colorful flags lined the premises. Grauntie Mabel, dressed up her baby blue suit and pink shooting star fez, stood and watched it all. Stanley stood beside her, surveying the area as well.

           “There she is, Lee!” Grauntie Mabel announced. “The cheapest fair money can rent! I spared _all_ of the expenses!”

          Above them, a line snapped. Stanford screamed as the sky tram fell out of the air and hit the ground next to Grauntie Mabel. Stanford blinked but did not move. “I think the sky tram is broken… and so are most of my bones.”

          Mabel laughed. “This guy! Alright, I have a job for you two.” She pulled out two clipboards filled with a stack of identical papers. Stanley and Stanford took the supplies given to them. “I need you two to stamp those on anything that looks like a lawsuit.”

          Stanford looked down at the paper, and then up at her. “Grauntie Mabel? Is this legal?”

           “When there aren’t any cops around, anything is legal!” Grauntie Mabel proclaimed and then turned to look at the dunk tank. “Fiddle! How’s the dunk tank coming along?”

          Fiddleford used a blowtorch on the handle of the dunk tank. He shut off his blow torch and lifted his mask. “It’s almost ready, Ms. Pines!”

          Grauntie Mabel strolled over to the contraption and knocked on the handle. The seat shuttered, but otherwise did not move. “You’ve outdone yourself, kid! Ha-ha! Nothing can knock me down!”

          Fiddleford nodded with a wide grin. “Yep! Well, maybe a future-y arm canon.”

           “Heh. Oh, you haven’t seen my red screwdriver have you?” Grauntie Mabel prompted and dug through a red toolbox next to them. “Darn thing went missing.”

          Fiddleford thought for a moment. “Um… no, actually. Weird. Maybe it was one of those paranormal critters that hang around here.”

           “Ha! Those boys are rubbing off on you.” She kept shuffling through the tools in the box. Fiddleford went back to his tinkering. “It’s got to be around here somewhere…”

          A few feet away, behind some portal toilets, crouched a large man in a tight, silver suit and small goggles. His hair was bald like the rest of his skin. He leaned in to a wide-faced watch on his wrist. “The mission is proceeding as planned. Over.” He used Mabel’s red screwdriver to tinker with the wrist device. Suddenly, his silver suit changed color and texture to fit about three different backgrounds before blending into the portable toilets. He lowered the screwdriver, glanced about, and walked off, not completely camouflaged.

 

          The noon sun shone over the fair, which was by now completed and filled with tourists. Grauntie Mabel, sitting casually in the dunk tank with a megaphone, glanced at her watch. She turned on the megaphone. “It’s 12 o’clock, folks! The dunk tank is now open!” Various people covered their ears as the megaphone screeched. Grauntie Mabel turned it off and then back on again. “Step right up and dunk me, folks!” She pointed to a bald man eating a large soft pretzel. “I’m talking to you, Cut-offs!” As a crowd gathered, Grauntie Mabel called, “That’s right! Muffin-Top, High-Pants! Who wants a piece of me?” The crowd, buying the baseballs they needed, chucked them at both the tank itself and the handle. Neither budged. Mabel waved and laughed, “Better luck next time! I’ll be here all day!”

          Nearby, Stanley and Dan ate a few corndogs. However, these weren’t normal corndogs. They had somehow bent them into the shape of a large question mark. Stanley inspected his. “How do they get them into this shape, anyway? They’re not like any corn dogs I’ve seen!”

           “But Lee, they’re so,” Dan held up his corn dog so that it was next to the word “DELICIOUS”. “-delicious?” The two laughed at the joke. Some mustard dripped from the corndog onto Dan’s sleeve. “Ah! Boo! I’ll be right back.” Dan wrinkled his nose at the mess but soon shrugged and walked off.

          Stanford, bearing two cones with cotton candy, walked up to Stanley. “Hey, Stanley!”

           “Hey, Ford!” Stanley took a bite out of his corndog. “You likin’ the fair?”

           “Yeah! I haven’t had this much candy since…” Stanford paused. “Halloween before last. When Dad made us go to that party and you stuffed the entire candy bowl in your bag!”

          Stanley laughed. “Dad almost killed us!”

           “Like he didn’t try his best, eh?” Stanford elbowed him and held out one of his cotton candy cones. “Want so- huh?” He wrinkled his nose. “Do you smell a gallon of perfume?”

          A shadow fell over them as Janice appeared. “Hey, have any of you dorks seen Dan?”

          Stanley raised his eyebrows at her. “And who wants to know?”

          Janice took a handful of Stanford’s cotton candy, which was a lot considering it was mostly air and fluff.

           “Hey!” Stanford took a step back and moved his cotton candy away so that Janice couldn’t touch it again.

          Janice went on, “Oh, I just got some new super-tight pints. Thought he’d want to check it out or whatever.”

          Stanley wrinkled his nose. “I think he went to the Bottomless Pit. Maybe you should jump in.”

          Janice narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I will.” With a huff, she stalked off, bumping Stanley as she did so.

          Stanford shook his head. “She’s such a jerk!”

          Stanley took another bite of his corndog. “Yeah. A jerk with tight pants and a guitar. I need to keep her away from Dan.”

          Stanford took a bite from his cotton candy. “I mean, I’m with you all the way, bro, but why?”

           “Don’t you see?” Stanley huffed. “When two people get together, they can’t think of anyone but each other! Dan won’t be doing anything except being with Janice or whatever. Also, Janice is a huge jerk!”

          Stanford took another bite out of the cotton candy. “Well, I don’t know about messing with his love life, but I don’t like her either.” He offered the full cotton candy to Stanley, who had eaten most of his corndog already. “Want some?”

           “Sure!” Stanley “Never-Turn-Down-Sugar” Pines gladly accepted the cotton candy.

           “Ooooh!” Stanford looked over Stanley’s shoulder to see a quiz game.

          Stanley looked back. “Huh? Oh!” He laughed and pushed Stanford. “Leave it to you to find the only nerd game here!”

           “Shut up!” Stanford laughed. “I’m going to go beat it! I’ll be right back!” He ran off to join the game. Three other contestants flocked to it.

           “Step right up!” the man behind the booth called. “See how smart you really are!”

          Stanford, buzzing with excitement, jumped up on one of the chairs between two other people. He was completely dwarfed in size by the older teens and the one adult there.

          The man chuckled. “Hey! I’m sorry, kid, but this might be a bit advanced for you. If you want, there’s a kid’s booth over that way.” He pointed to a booth a few feet away. A few kids, ranging from eight to twelve, were at a more vibrant and cartoony booth.

          Stanford shook his head. “I’m mature enough!” He put down a ticket. “And I’ve got a ticket!”

           “Okay, kid,” the man replied with a shrug and took the ticket. “Suit yourself. Now, first round is over history!” The red button on the table in front of each person glowed. “When was World War I? A. April, 1940. B. August 1920, C. July 1937, B. June 1914.”

          Stanford immediately pressed the button before the others could. “D!” he piped up. “June of 1914.”

          The man stared at him for a second and then nodded. “Yes, actually. Next question!”

 

          Dan met up with Stanley and the two walked through the fair. Stanley had eaten his cotton candy and threw away his trash so now neither of them had anything in their hands. “Oh, dude!” Dan looked up at a shelf of purple and pink stuffed animals. Although they were round and soft like a teddy bear, they had little wings, duck feet, and duck bills. Below it was a booth with multiple three-milk-glass-bottle stands. “Whoa! I don’t know if it’s a duck or a panda, but I want one!”

          Stanley smirked, “You know, I learned the secret to these.”

           “Oh?” Dan prompted.

           “You aim for the dude’s head and take the prize while he’s unconscious,” Stanley snickered.

           “Ha! Nice!” Dan laughed at well.”

          Stanley crossed his arms. “So, you wanna go first or should I?”

           “You first little dude.”

          Stanley, chest puffed out, handed a ticket to the man at the booth. The man handed him a ball. “You only get one shot.”

           “One shot’s all I need.” Stanley took a step back, raised his arm, and chucked the ball as hard as he could. It barreled through the milk bottles, causing them to burst back. The ball bounced off the backboard and hit Dan in the eye.

           “Agk! My eye!” He held a hand to his left eye, grimacing in pain.

           “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” Stanley gasped. “Are you okay?!”

          Dan, wincing, lifted his hand from his bruised eye. “Ugh. Is it that bad?”

          Stanley sucked in his breath. “It’s gunna be fine! I, uh, I’ll be right back! Stay here!” He ran off to find the ice machine beside the back door of the Shack. When he did, he dragged out a bag of ice and, clutching it like a lifeline, raced back to the ball throw stand. Before he could get there, he ran into the silver-suit bald guy with goggles. Stanley dropped the ice bag, spilling ice cubes everywhere. He immediately went to work scraping up the ice. “Watch where you’re going, man!” The man snatched his measuring tape from the ground, as it had fallen, and raced away. Stanley picked up the ice bag again, this time with a tear that dropped a trail of ice cubes behind him, and ran to meet up with Dan. However, he stopped when he heard Janice’s voice.

           “Okay, here. Just set the freezie cone on your eye.” Janice held her purple freezie cone up to Dan’s face.

          Dan smiled and, once Janice let go of it, straightened himself out a bit so he wasn’t hunched over. “Thanks, Jane. That’s really sweet of you- the cone and the gesture.”

 

          Meanwhile, a small crowd had appeared around the quiz stand. A board with their scores was on it. Stanford was the only one who had any marks.

           “Last question!” the man announced. The only one of the four contestants that looked excited was Stanford. The rest were surprised or exasperated. One was skeptical. The man who ran the booth went on, “When was Gravity Falls founded? A. 1849, B. 1842, C. 1850, D. 1830.” This question brought excitement from those native to Gravity Falls. However, the Stanford had spent a few hours decoding the code written on the timeline of the journal. He couldn’t forget it if he tried.

          He smacked the button and announced, “B! Gravity Falls was found in 1842!”

          The man who worked at the booth nodded. “That’s correct! We have a winner!” The crowd clapped. “What’s your name, kid?”

           “I’m Stanford!” Stanford answered and puffed out his chest.

           “Well congratulations, Stanford. Here’s your prize!” The man waved Stanford around and gestured to a pen next to him filled with goats- most of them very young. “Which one would you like?”

          Stanford jumped out of his seat and approached the pen. “A baby goat?”

          Preston glanced at him as he passed. “Ha! Looks like he’s found his real twin!”

          Stanford ignored him. Would their parents even allow that? Oh, no. What if their parents didn’t- a goat baby nibbled on his shirt. He looked down. The baby goat baaed. The little guy was cream with a white chest and a blotch of amber brown fur on his lower back. One of his horns looked to be missing. “I’d like this one.”

           “Little Gompers,” the man nodded. “Sure thing, kid. He’s yours!” He tied a rope around his neck in a leash, plucked the little guy out of the pen, and presented him to Stanford. As soon as Stanford held him, and took his leash, the goat baaed and nibbled on his hair.

          He laughed and wrinkled his nose at Gompers. “Everything’s different now.”

 

          Jane played with the string on her hoodie. “I, uh… you know, I’ve been wondering. We’ve known each other a while, huh? I was wondering if…” she shut her eyes. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me.” She opened one eye.

          Dan gave her a warm smile. “Yeah, sure.”

           “Cool!” Janice perked up.

          Stanley deflated. The rest of the ice from the bag spilled out on the grass and over his feet. “Everything’s different, now.”

          Stanford, his smile wide and eyes bright, approached his brother. “Look! I have a goat now! His name is Gompers.” Gompers baaed. His smile deteriorated. “What’s wrong?”

          Stanley pointed to Dan and Janice. Janice dropped the freezie cone and they laughed and ran to the “Tunnel of Love and Corndogs” ride.

           “Oh.”

 

          Darkness started to fall over the valley. The lights on the fair blazed to life. Stanley sat on the sloppy toss ramp, his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. Stanford approached him. Gompers bounced about around him, not at all mindful of his rope leash. Stanford sat down on the ground beside him.

           “Ford?” Stanley prompted. “Do you ever wish you could just… go back and fix one mistake?”

          Stanford shrugged. “Not really. Past’s the past.”

           “Ugh. I mean, Dan only went out with Janice because she was there with the ice. He needed the ice because of the baseball. I would’ve _had_ the ice if it wasn’t for…” His eyes moved up. The bald guy in the silver suit and goggles tampered with something on a hay bale a few feet away. “-that guy!” Stanley pointed at the man and stalked up to him. Stanford got up and followed him, ready to intervene if a fight broke out. He loved his brother dearly, but Stanley was very hotheaded. “Hey, toolbelt!” The silver-suited man turned around to look at them. He bristled at their approached. “You ruined my chance!”

           “H-huh?”

           “Don’t act innocent! I’ve seen you before! Who are you, anyway? Are you following us around?” Stanley demanded.

          The man gasped. “Oh no! My position has been _compromised!_ Assuming stealth mode!” He looked about and fiddled with the device on his wrist. His silver suit turned a variety of colors. “Color match! Initiating color match!” His suit changed to a variety of backgrounds, but it buzzed in static and nothing stuck. “Come on, dang it!” He stamped his foot and pulled out Grauntie Mabel’s screwdriver to tinker with it.

          Stanley’s eyes grew round. “Whoa! That’s amazing. Are you from the future or something?”

           “Uh, no!” He looked around. “Wh-who told you that? Memory wipe!” He threw a little light teal square at Stanford.

          Stanford recoiled and took it off. “This is a… baby wipe.”

          Blendin sighed and sat down on the hay bale. “Alright. You’ve cornered me. I’m… a time traveler.”

           “Wait,” Stanford stated. “If you’re a time traveler… you must have a time traveling machine, right?”

          Blendin nodded. “That’s kinda how it works.”

          Stanley looked up at the Ferris Wheel behind them. Janice and Dan rode it. He looked down at Blendin. “Can I borrow it? Just once?”

           “Absolutely not!” Blendin stood up and waved his hands in a ‘no’ manner. He took out his tape measure with an hourglass on it. “This is sensitive, extremely complicated time equipment.” He pulled out the tape measure to show them.

          Stanford raised an eyebrow. “That looks like a tape measure.”

           “Shut your time mouth!” Blendin snapped.

          Stanford turned to Stanley. Stanley shrugged. “Does this make any sense to you?”

          Stanford shook his head. “This sounds kind of crazy.”

           “Oh? Don’t believe me?” Blendin prompted. He unrolled his tape measure and let go. He was gone in a flash of light. Not even a second passed before he was back. This time, he was dressed up in old-time, renaissance garb.

           “Whoa!” the twins breathed.

           “That’s right!” Blendin boasted. “Fifteen years ago, there was a costume shop here. Wait here.” He vanished again. When he reappeared, he was in his normal suit. However, flames popped up on his clothes in different places. “Ak! Fire! Pat! Pat down!” He patted out the flames on his suit and head.

          Stanford piped up, “So, who are you, again?”

          Blendin took out an ID with his picture and information on it. A green hourglass was on the silver ID. “            Blendin Blandin, Time Anomaly Removal Crew year twenty sñeventy-twelve. My mission is to stop a series of time anomalies that are suppose to happen at this very location! But-but I don’t _see_ any anomalies! I don’t know if it’s some kind of paradox, or I’m just really tired…” He sat down with a heavy sigh.

          A bright, sympathetic smile appeared on Stanley’s features. “You know, you sound like you can use a break.”

          Stanley glanced at Stanford, who nodded. “Definitely! How about one of the attractions at the Mystery Fair?” Stanford held out two tickets.

           “You know what? What the heck! I’m worth it!” He got up and took the tickets from Stanford. He started to leave, but then turned his gaze on the two kids. “But I've got my eye on you! Ehhh… ehhh…” He stopped by a barrel ride. Fiddleford, who was stationed there, looked up at him and perked up. Blendin dropped the tickets into the barrel. “One please.”

          Fiddleford glanced at Blendin’s belt. “I’m sorry, but you’re goin’ to have to leave your toolbelt here. One of your tools might accidently fly off.”

          Blendin took off his belt and presented it to the kid. “Guard it with your life.”

           “You got it!” Fiddleford clutched the belt. “I will watch it like a hawk!” Blendin hopped into one of the barrels. He raised his hands into the air and whooped as the barrels spun and the ride moved. Stanford and Stanley watched Fiddleford and the belt.

           “Is he going to put it down?” Stanley prompted.

          Stanford shook his head. “Not if his life depended on it.”

          Stanley nodded. “Got it. You distract him.”

           “Okay.” Stanford walked around to Fiddleford’s other side. “Hey, Fidds! Look!” He held up Gompers’ leash. The baby goat, tuckered out after a day of play, baaed.

          Fiddleford looked down at the little guy. “Oh! He’s a cute little fella! What’s his name?”

          “Gompers,” Stanford replied, puffing out his chest. “I won him at a quiz booth!”

          As they talked, Stanley crouched behind the barrel and unhooked the measuring tape from the belt. He gave Stanford the thumbs up and backed away.

          Fiddleford petted Gompers on the head. The goat half-heartedly nibbled on his sleeve. “How old is he?”

          Stanford shrugged. “I don’t know. But he’s a baby. And he’s tired. So, I should put him to bed.”

          Fiddleford stood up straight. “That’s a good idea. See ya tomorrow, Ford!”

           “See you later!”

          Stanford and Stanley sat around the kitchen table. Gompers got to sit down in his own chair next to Stanford. Stanley set the time tape on the table. “Okay. Here it is! Our ticket into history!”

          Stanford bit his lip. “We should really be smart about this, okay? What if we mess something up in history?”

          Stanley sighed. “Look. All I’m gunna do is go back and fix my _one mistake_. If I don't miss that baseball throw, I won’t hit Dan in the eye, and Janice won't comfort him, and they won’t start going out.”

          Stanford looked down at Gompers and smiled. “I guess I could win Gompers again.” Gompers nuzzled him. “After all, there’s no way I’m letting you on this time travel adventure without me!”

           “I wouldn’t have it any other way, bro!” Stanley took out the tape and extended it until it said “6 hours”. “See you later,” he said to Gompers.

          Stanford smirked. “See you earlier!” He let go of the tape and raised his hand. Stanford high-sixed him. The both of them froze. Gompers, startled, knocked over a deck of cards and bounced away. Time slowed down until finally, it froze. Then, Gompers ran backwards. The cards readjusted themselves. The sun backed up. Time traveled back until the noon sun glowed over them.

          Stanford and Stanley laughed. Stanford gasped as a puff of fire burned part of his jacket. He patted it out. The twins looked at each other and raced outside. The midday sun blazed overhead. “It’s 12 o'clock! The dunk tank is now open!” Grauntie Mabel called through the megaphone. The crowd shuttered and put their hands over their ears as the megaphone screeched. Grauntie Mabel continued, “Step right up and dunk me folks! I'm talking to you, Cut-offs!”

          Stanley and Stanford looked at each other, grins wide and eyes bright. “Do over?” Stanley prompted.

           “Do over!” Stanford agreed. The twins ran their separate ways. Immediately, Stanford ran to the quiz show booth. The guy who ran the kid’s quiz show booth congratulated a ten-year-old as the winner and allowed him to take a baby goat.

           “Dan!” Stanley called and ran up to him.

           “There you are!” Dan called back. “What took you so long?”

          Stanley shrugged. “Just talkin’ to my brother. Oh! Look at that!” He pointed to the ball-throw booth with the stuffed animals above it.

           “Oh! I don’t know if it’s a panda or a duck, but I want one!”

           “I can get it,” Stanley offered and then presented a ticket to the carnie. “One ball, please!”

           “You only get one chance,” the carnie stated.

          Stanley smirked and looked at the stack of bottles. “That’s just what you think,” he muttered and then took a deep breath. “One panda-duck coming right up!” His ball crashed into the bottles, knocking them all over. The ball hit the backboard and smacked Dan in the face.

          Dan held onto his left eye. “Ack! My eye!”

           “Wait, what?”

          Dan winced and let go of his face to show a black eye. “Is it swollen?”

           “That’s so weird,” Stanley breathed.

           “Hey, Janice,” Dan greeted as the concerned teen approached him. She set her purple freezie cone on his eyes, which caused him to smile back in gratitude. “Thanks.”

          Confident, Janice smiled back. “I, uh… you know, I’ve been wondering. We’ve known each other a while, huh? I was wondering if…” she shut her eyes. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me.” She opened one eye.

          Dan gave her a warm smile. “Yeah, sure.”

           “Cool!” Janice perked up.

 

          Stanley watched as Dan and Janice walked onto the Tunnel of Love ride. Stanford fed Gompers a treat and patted his head. “The exact same thing happened twice,” Stanley said with a confused huff. “It’s sort of freaky.”

           “Maybe’s a time-curse or something,” Stanford offered. “What do you think?” Gompers baaed and jumped onto his lap. Stanford laughed and hugged him.

          Stanley shook his head. “Nope! Nope, it can’t be like that. I just need to try a third time! Third time’s a charm!”

          Stanford let go of Gompers and got up. Gompers bounced about the ground around him.

           “How hard could it be?” Stanford agreed. Stanley pulled back the tape. Stanford pushed the ‘backward’ button. After Stanley let go of the tape, the two vanished in a spark of light.

          When Stanley tried the ball throw again, he used his left hand. The ball ricochet off the board and hit Dan again. Janice offered a freezie cone and a confession. Stanford bounced on his feet a few times. Gompers copied him and even jumped up onto a hay bale to reach his head.

          Stanley tried everything he could. He tried backing up, moving Dan, aiming in a different place, and even adjusting how hard he threw it. Once, he allowed Dan to go first. Dan shook his head, “Nah, you first, kid! I believe in you!” That time, the ball hit the net of baseballs above them, causing the bag to tear and the balls to rain down on Dan.

          Stanford spent the fair with Gompers, leash in his pocket. Gompers didn’t need a leash, not when he had a new best friend to follow around. Once, in a photo booth, Stanford held up Gompers. The next few pictures it took was Gompers messing with Stanford, who’d strike a pose. Gompers seemed to love eating clothes, though, so Stanford had to carry him around a lot of places to keep from getting scolded. Once, he presented Gompers to Grauntie Mabel, who gave him a thumbs up and told him about how _she_ won _Waddles_ at a fair by guessing his weight.

 

          Eventually, Stanford and Stanley met up by a popcorn machine. Stanford sat down and ate a bag of jelly beans. Gompers jumped up and down from the ground, box, and Stanford’s lap. He’d get a jelly bean on occasion. When Stanford came across a deformed jelly bean, he ooh’d and put it in his pocket.

          Stanley, on the other hand, paced about. “Ugh! I don’t get it! I’ve tried everything! I’ve counted everything! Why isn’t this working?!”

          Stanford shrugged and ate a green one. “I don’t know, Stanley. It’s probably Fate. You shouldn’t mess around with it.”

           “Easy for you to say!” Stanley huffed. “You get to go off and get Gompers every… time…” Stanley’s eyes grew round. “Whoa! Wait! What if you helped me?”

           “Help you what?” Stanford prompted.

           “Win the game without hurting Dan!” Stanley exclaimed. “Come on. Please?”

          Stanford sighed and put away the remaining jelly beans. “Of course, bro.”

           “Thanks!” Stanley unrolled the time tape.

 

          Stanley stood with Dan in front of the ball throw stand. He looked around and weighed the ball in his hand.

           “Dude?” Dan prompted. “Are you going to go?”

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah, man. A-one and a-two and a-” He threw the ball. However, he didn’t throw it at the game. He threw it up into the air.

           “Aw tough luck,” Dan commented.

           “Wait for it.” Stanley held up a hand. The ball hit the flag at the top of the booth, rolled down the tent, and flew off the ramp it made. It hit the rotating corn-dog sign and then the roof of the Shack. It rolled down into the gutter. Stanford pulled up the gutter so that the ball flew off it. It hit the dunk tank handle and bounced off. Grauntie Mabel laughed in victory. It soared through Janice’s freezie cone and into the booth. It knocked over the bottles, hit the back board, and flew up through the roof.

           “Here’s your creature of indeterminate species,” the man held out the animal for Stanley. He pointed to Dan. The carnie shrugged and gave it to Dan.

           “Thanks, man! Wow, this thing looks cool.” Dan inspected the giant plushie. Stanley held out his hand. The ball landed on it. “Man, my little bro’s going to _love_ this thing!”

          Janice, no freezie pop in her hand, strolled over to them. “Oh! Hey, Dan.”

           “Hey, Janice! Look what Stanley won!” He held out the plushie. “Cool, right?”

          Stanley smiled and leaned to the side so that he could Janice, and Janice could see him. Janice huffed and pulled her hoodie over her head. “Yeah, well, whatever. You can’t even tell what species it is.” She stalked away in a huff.

           “Wow. What’s her problem?” Dan cocked his head to the side and lowered the toy.

          Stanley shrugged, though his smile was not lost. He looked back and gave Stanford a thumbs up.

          Stanford gave him the thumbs up, too. “Any time, bro!” When Stanley and Dan walked away, Stanford strolled over to the quiz game. “Welp! Time to win my goat!” He started off and then gasped in surprise.

           “He’s all yours!” The carnie in charge of the kid’s quiz handed a baby goat with a leash to Preston. He took the one-horned baby goat and looked over it. “Ol’ Gompers! Yours! Forever!”

          Preston set him down and walked off. Gompers bleated and struggled with his leash. Preston tugged on him and had to drag the baby goat. Gompers hated his leash! Stanford could only watch in horror as Preston dragged away the miserable little thing. Stanford turned and ran off to find his brother.

          Stanley waved good-bye to Dan a few yards away from the ball-throw. Stanford raced to his side, gasping heavily as the sudden sprint took away his breath. “Stanley!”

          Stanley jumped and turned around. “Wha- Stanford! What’s wrong?”

           “Preston saw the flier!” Stanford pointed back to the pen of goats. “He took Gompers before I could! He took Gompers!”

          Stanley shuffled his feet. “Oh, man. I’m sorry, Ford.”

          Stanford took a deep breath. “Hey, it’s alright. We can just go back in time and–”

          Stanley took a step back and held the time tape out of reach. “Whoa, whoa! Wait! We can’t do that! Look, I’ve tried this a dozen times. Who knows if I will ever get to win that again?”

          Stanford stared at him. “Stanley, Gompers is my goat! He’s my first ever pet!” He looked back at the pen morosely and then sighed. “But, I guess you’re right. Dad probably won’t let me have a goat anyway.”

           “Why don’t you get another one?” Stanley prompted. “I mean, there’re plenty of goats over there, right?”

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, there is.” He looked down at his pocket. A little strip of photos he’d taken with Gompers was in it. He shrugged, stuffed it deeper into his pocket, and walked off into the fair.

          Stanley watched him go for a few feet. “Ford! Do you want some funnel cake?”

          Stanford stopped and shuffled his feet. “Um… okay.”

          Stanley led him around to a funnel cake stand and ordered one for them to share. Despite being given a deep fried, sugar-covered treat, Stanford still didn’t seem to happy. However, he took a deep breath and got rid of his frown, anyway

          When they got to a table to eat it, they found Preston sitting a few feet away. Gompers, tied down to the bench, complained loudly. “Shut up!” Preston hissed at him.

          Stanford turn to his brother. “We can’t let this happen! He’s miserable!”

           “He’s a goat,” Stanley pointed. “They eat tin cans for Pete’s sake! He’ll be fine.”

           Stanford took the tape away from him and ran off. “No he won’t!”

           “Ford!” Stanley yelled and ran after him. Stanford, still running, unrolled some of the tape. Stanley tackled him, knocking them both to the ground. The dispenser part got caught in one of the “Tunnel of Love and Corndogs” corndog cart. The twins watched as the tape got longer and longer and longer until the dispenser got loose and snapped back to them. They were gone in a spark of light.

          The two stood up and looked around. They were on a heavy trail in a thick forest. There was no civilization in sight. “When are we?” Stanford breathed and looked about.

           “The real question is: _When_ are we!” Stanley pointed out. “Oh, wait. You already said that.” Stanford, chuckling, nodded.

          The ground rumbled beneath them.

           “Do you hear that?” Stanley prompted. The two looked back. A herd of buffalo stampeded down the wide trail. The twins screamed and fled. In an attempt to dodge, the two of them ran off in a random direction, only to fall off a cliff and land in a wagon drawn by oxen.

          A man in the very front yelled to the rest of the wagons, “Watch out for mountain lions!”

           “Dysentery!” an old man wielding a canteen called. “Who wants dysentery?”

          A man holding the reins on the front wagon pointed a hand ahead. “Forge ahead, mighty oxen, for a new life awaits us on this… Oregon Trail.”

           “Where are we? The seventies?” Stanley asked and looked about the cluttered wagon.

           “You sent us back a hundred and fifty years, genius!” Stanford hissed. “It’s pioneer times!”

          The wagon driver looked back at the kids. “By, Trembley! Fertilia, it seems you've given birth to two more children!”

           “It seems I have.” They looked to the back of the wagon where a pregnant woman held a few children. More children clustered around her. “More little hands to render the tallow.”

           “Tallow?” Stanley prompted.

           “Whoa!” a boy gasped, seeing his glasses and hands. “This boy is different!”

          Stanford recoiled from the boy, eyebrows contracted. “U-uh! We should get moving. Come on, Stanley.”

           “Look at this!” Stanley held out a calculator. “A magic button machine!”

           “No! We can’t mess with the timeline!” Stanford snatched the calculator away.

           “Says the guy who got us into this mess,” Stanley growled back and held up his hand. “This is a high-five! Teach it to your friends!” The boy high-fived Stanley and ooh’d in wonder.

           “No! I’m going to set the timeline right!” Stanford snapped and unrolled the tape measure.

           “Wait!” Stanley grabbed Stanford and slapped the time machine. They vanished in a flash of light. The twins appeared back on firm land. They looked up. A carnivorous dinosaur, a T-Rex most likely, snapped its gaze to them and roared. They screamed and pressed a button on the machine until they vanished, leaving the dinosaur to attack empty air.

          The two appeared in a ruined wasteland of broken buildings and fire. Two children looked about. A couple of Freedom Fighters raced past. “Run! RUN!” the first screamed.

           “It’s coming!” The second yelled as they ran by. A giant floating baby with an hourglass on his forehead floated past. He cackled in glee as lasers from his eyes destroyed even more of the buildings.

           “This future looks neat,” Stanley commented. Stanford pressed buttons on the machine wildly.

          They appeared by the Gravity Falls lake, which was filled with people. “…Fishing Season!” Grauntie Mabel announced. The two boys watched themselves give Grauntie Mabel looks of incredulity.

          Stanley snatched the time machine and growled, “We’re going back!”

           “Not without Gompers!” Stanford snapped back and chased him. His calculator fell onto the ground.

           “I SEEN IT!” Old Woman Chiu yelled. “I SEEN IT AGAIN!”

          They appeared before the unveiling of Wax Mabel.

           “But enough about me!” Grauntie Mabel exclaimed. “Behold: ME!” Stanford tripped over a wire. He got up and followed his brother, though he lost his shoe in the process.

          They ran past the giant gnome monster, who cornered Stanley and Stanford. Stanley dropped a pen he’d been carrying in his pocket.

          They appeared in front of the Mystery Shack, but in deep snow. “It’s getting hotter!” Stanley complained and bounced it from one hand to the other. “HOT! HOT! HOT!”

           “What did you do?!” Stanford snapped. They vanished into a blink of light.

          A younger looking Mabel with short hair looked about before shutting the door again.

          They appeared in complete darkness. “Where are we?” Stanley prompted.

          Stanford gasped, “There's nothing but inky blackness for miles! Stanley, don't you see? We’ve transported to the end of time!”

          The two kids yelled their terror at the prospect of being at the end of time. However, Stanley interrupted himself. “Uh, why does it smell so bad here?” He opened a door. The portable potty door opened, letting in bright daylight. “Look! We’re back in the present!”

           “Which present?” Stanford prompted.

          Dan walked across the lawn. “Heh. This is the best present!”

           “Yes!” Stanley hissed.

          Preston dragged Gompers along the grass. He cried and struggled as he attempted to get away from him.

           “Oh no!” Stanford gasped. He attempted to take the machine back from Stanley. They ended up running around the portable potty. “Give that back, Stanley!”

          Stanley climbed on top of the portable potty, which Stanford could not climb himself. “Give it up, Ford! I’ve worked too hard to lose this!”

          Stanford frowned. “What about Gompers? I love him!”

           “You said that about a cat at a science fair, once,” Stanley dismissed. “Do you really want Dan to date Janice?”

          Stanford looked down to his pictures of Gompers. “I… I don’t know.” Stanford sighed and trudged off. He sat down by the totem pole and set his head in his hands.

           “You’re not guilt-trippin’ me, bro,” Stanley denied.

          Stanford turned his head so that he didn’t have to look at Stanley.

           “Come on, Ford. I know you,” Stanley tried. “You’re gunna get over this in a day.” He took out his time machine and jumped down. “Let me prove it!” He pulled it back so that he went forward a day. “See?” Stanford still sat by the totem pole, glaring down at the grass. Most of the fair stuff was packed up already. “Okay, maybe you’ll forget in a week…” Stanford hadn’t moved from the spot. It was completely clear of anything fair related. “A month! You’ll be better in a month!” Stanford hadn’t changed, though he did have a bunch of crumpled up notebook papers and a broken pen next to him.

          Stanley sighed and pulled back the time tape.

 

           “I don’t know if it’s a panda or a duck, but I want one!” Dan announced as he and Stanley walked up to the stand.

          Stanley sighed and turned to Dan. “Look, I just wanted to say that, uh… that people make mistakes. And you should forgive them. A-also that tight pants are overrated.”

          Dan gave him a questioning look. “You lost me, dude.”

           “I know. One ball, please.” Stanley gave his ticked to the carnie and took the ball.

           “You only get one chance.”

          Stanley hardly needed to throw it at all for it to hit the pins, the backboard, and then hit Dan’s eye. “Agk! My eye!”

           “Whoa, Dan!” Janice ran up to him, a freezie cone in her hand. “Are you alright?” As they walked off, Janice started to say, “You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

           “It is done,” Stanley sighed. He huffed as he was knocked over.

          Stanford laughed, “Stanley! Thank you! Thank you! _Thank you!_ ” Gompers bounced on Stanley’s chest and head, causing him to laugh and put him down. Stanford immediately hugged him. Gompers baaed and bounced about. “He’s saying ‘thank you’ in goat.” He let go and looked at the goat. “Aren’t you, Gompers?” Gompers flipped over and waved his hooves in the air.

          Preston stalked by, holding an angry chicken at arm’s reach. The bird pecked him relentlessly.

           “Aw, man. I couldn’t break your heart like that,” Stanley denied with a shake of his head. “Besides, there’s no way they can date _all summer_ right?”

           “YOU!” Blendin screamed and tore the time machine out of Stanley’s hand. “YOU TWO!” The two screamed at the sudden outburst. Stanford held onto Gompers. “Do you have ANY idea how many rules you just broke?!” Blendin barked and then hesitated. “I'm asking; I wasn’t there with you... it was probably a lot, right?”

          A flash of light behind Blendin caused them to jump. He spun around. Though the two looked similar in bulky, tall stature, similar military clothes and weapons, and the same green eye-pieces, Dungren was darker with black hair and Lolph was lighter with amber hair. Dundgren, on the left, growled, “Blendin Blandin.”

           “AH!” Blendin yelped. “The Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squad!”

          Lolph agreed, “That's right, and our phones have been ringing off the hook! There are settlers high-fiving in the 1800’s and calculators littered through eight centuries!”

          Dundgren took out a pair of handcuffs. “You’re under arrest for violation of the Time Traveler’s Code of Conduct.” He pulled Blendin’s arms behind his back and handcuffed him.

           “It was those kids! And their leader, Gompers!” Blendin denied.

          Lolph gave him a flat stare. “That’s a goat, Blendin.”

          Blendin glared at Stanley and Stanford. “I’ll get you for this! I’ll go back in time and make sure your parents never meet!”

          Stanford shrugged. “We’re still here.”

           “Guess he forgot to go back,” Stanley agreed.

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “Ha-ha! Your pockets are dry and I’m sitting high and dry!” The crowd booed. “Boo! Ha, boo! I love it! Hey, biceps! I’m talking to you, haircut! Take your best shot!” The TPAES officers looked back at her. Lolph shot the handle with his arm canon and they left. Grauntie Mabel fell into the water. The crowd cheered.

          Stanley looked back at his brother. “So, I guess we never found out who was causing those time anomalies Blendin was looking for.”

          Stanford gasped. “Wait, Stanley! I think it was us.”

          Stanley groaned, “Ugh, my brain hurts.” He looked over to the candy apple stand a few yards away. “Oh, geez, I gotta deal with this all summer?”

          Janice and Dan stood by a caramel apple stand. Janice laughed, “It's good; it’s caramel.”

          A devilish smile spread over Stanford’s features. “I’m on it.” He set down Gompers and pointed at the candy apple. Gompers bleated and charged Janice. She dropped the candy apple, which Gompers happily ate, and staggered back with a yell of fright. A container of hot water spilled over her. She fell and looked at her legs, which were now losing circulation. “My pants! They’re shrinking!”

          Everyone in the crowd, even Dan and Grauntie Mabel, laughed. This caused Grauntie Mabel to choke and come up for air.

          Gompers bounded back to Stanford and sat down next to him, the apple in his mouth.

          Dan laughed, “Oh man.”

          Stanley patted Gompers’ head. “That’ll do goat. That’ll do.”

 

          Many centuries ahead of time, Time Baby floated in the midst of a small crowd. A blue beam linked the hourglass on his head to Blendin, who floated as well. “You have broken the eternal laws of space-time!”

          Blendin stammered, “I-I beg your mercy, Time Baby!”

          Time Baby stated, “You must now clean up all of the anomalies.” With a flash of light, Blendin was gone. He appeared back by the lake during fishing season. He plucked calculator off the ground and went on his way to find the rest of the time anomalies.

 

SV RHM’G WLMV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's the fair! I _switch_ can't remember going to the _a_ fair when I was younger, but I probably did. Winning a _with_ prize at a quiz booth is so Stanford, right? I about made it _z_ to where Stanley got Gompers, but I really wanted him to talk about "making a big mistake" with Stanford.  
>  Also: Mabel won Waddles at a fair she went to a few years back. Some things just stay the same.


	10. Fight Fighters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Gravity Falls, Stanford and Stanley have made more friends in a few weeks in summer than they had in their twelve years on Glass Shard Beach. When Stanley's new friend, Dan, gets in a relationship with a girl who hates Stanley just as much as she hates him, challenges him to a fight, Stanley falls back to his days brawling with kids in the schoolyard. Will Stanley fall back to his cheating ways, or will he gain honor in his fight?

          Birds sang and insects chirped under early day’s sun. The Mystery Shack currently stood empty of people. That day, Grauntie Mabel dressed up in a pale white sweater with a green four-leaf clover. Whenever Mabel replaced her suit with a sweater, the boys knew what to expect. They weren’t working today.

          Instead, Grauntie Mabel led them to the Arcade. “Okay, kiddos!” she announced. “I don’t think we’ve been here before! This place is pretty old, you know. Why don’t you two kids scamper about, try some games?” She lent a few quarters to Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford. “Have some fun.”

           “Thanks, Grauntie Mabel!”

           “Thanks, Ms. Pines!”

          Stanley immediately ran to where he expected the more exciting games would be- the fighting games. He found Dan playing a two-player game called “Fight Fighters” alone. When he saw Stanley approaching, he smiled. “Hey, little dude! Figured you’d be here. Want to play a few rounds?”

           “Sure! Er- yeah, I mean, sure.” Stanley shrugged, put a few quarters into the machine, and held onto the controls.

           “ _SELECT YOUR CHARACTERS!_ ” Stanley immediately chose Rumble McSkirmish from America and Dan chose Dr. Karate from Japan.

           “Oh, cutscene!” Stanley announced.

          Rumble McSkirmish’s squared head appeared on screen with an orange and red background. “DR. KARATE YOU KILLED MY FATHER AGAIN !”

          The screen switched to Dr. Karate’s upper chest, arms, and head with a purple and white background. “HHNNGHHH !!!!!!!”

          It cut to Rumble McSkirmish again. “YOU TAKE THAT BAAACKKKK !!!!!!!!”

          The scene changed to a very old Japanese style yard and house with a forest behind it. A large white cat with one paw raised, eyes closed, and a smile on its face, was in the background. The two fighters, Rumble McSkirmish and Dr. Karate, stood on either side of the black-and-white striped ref. Rumble McSkirmish wore torn blue jeans, a red belt, a red bandana around his head and over the sandy blonde hair on the back of his head, tape around his forearms and even an eyepatch over his left eye. On the other hand, Dr. Karate wore a full red suit with shoulder pads and arm bands and shoes, a red device in place of a left eye, and icy blonde hair

           “ROUND ONE! FIIIIGHT!”

          Rumble McSkirmish threw fireballs and kicks and all types of other attacks. He yelled out the name of his attack each time it was initiated. Dr. Karate didn’t use fire, but he did do all types of odd acrobatics. Dan and Stanley mashed the four buttons and moved the red handle in jerky movements to control their characters.

           “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Go! Go!” Stanley laughed. Dan cheered on his character as well.

With one last “Kick-kick! Punch! Punch!” Rumble McSkirmish defeated Dr. Karate. “K.O.” popped up over the screen. The screen flicked to one showing off Rumble, flexing, and spinning in a circle with his name at the top. “THE WINNER IS: RUMBLE MCSKIRMISH!”

Rumble McSkirmish posed, one hand on his hip and the other extended with two fingers out. “WINNERS DON’T LOSE !”

           “What? You cheated!” Dan accused.

           “You take that back!” Stanley raised his fists in front of him and mimicked Rumble’s voice. The two laughed and continued to round two.

           “ROUND TWO!”

           “I’m going to punch the ref.” Dan’s character jumped and kicked and punched at the ref, who was part of the background and untouchable.

           “FIGHT!”

           “Let’s gang up on him!” Stanley agreed and started doing the same.

          Nearby, Janice put up posters advertising her band. Upon getting close to Dan and Stanley’s smiled and called, “Da-an! Hey! What’s up?” She put an arm around him and held up a poster nonchalantly. “Yeah, just putting up some flyers for my band. I’m playing lead guitar. No biggie.”

           “Hey, Jan. Lee was just showing me this great game.” Dan nodded to the FIGHT FIGHTERS game they were playing.

           “Hey, yeah, sweet, sweet.” She let go and walked around to Dan’s other side. She scooted Stanley back a few steps. “Hey, hey about you sit this one out, okay, champ?”

           “But we just started this round,” Stanley complained.

           “Whoa, hey! Relax, kid, I’m just trying to spend a little time with my boyfriend, alright?” Janice set a hand on her hip and the other on the game machine.

           “It’ll just be one round,” Dan offered.

          Stanley stood back to allow them to play, though he did glare at Janice while Dan wasn’t looking.

           “ROUND THREE! FIGHT!”

          Dan stayed staring at the screen, though he talked to Janice. “So, hey. I’m gunna go camping tomorrow with my mom so, I won’t be around.”

           “Oh, cool, cool, watch out!” She put an arm over Dan’s shoulder and shot a subtle smirk back at Stanley before turning back to the game.

           “OPPONENT SIGHTED! FIGHT”

 

          The next day, Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford gathered around a table with a deck of cards and a few piles of chipackerz to play poker. Gompers sat on a box next to Stanford and Waddles stayed by Grauntie Mabel. Stanley, a smug smile on his face, put down two kings. “King me!” Stanford and Fiddleford put down their cards with a huff.

           “It’s no fair! I _just_ taught him this game!” Grauntie Mabel exclaimed.

          Stanley pulled the pile of chipacherz close to himself. “What can I say? I’m a card playing _wizard!_ ”

          The lamp above them shuttered as a raucously loud song started playing outside. Fiddleford looked about. “What’s that?”

           “ _Danny~!_ ” Janice’s voice carried in from outside.

           “Ugh, sounds like Janice,” Stanley grumbled.

           “Is that the twerp girl that keeps making goo-goo eyes at Dan?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          Fiddleford nodded. “She called me short stack, once. I mean, I know I’m short, but it still hurt.”

          Stanford petted Gompers. “Want me to sic Gompers on her again?” Gompers reached up and chewed on his jacket. “Ha-ha! Easy there, tiger!”

          Stanley pushed himself away from the table and stood up. “I’ll handle it.”

           “Oh-ooooh!” The others chuckled as he left.

           “This aught be good,” Grauntie Mabel chuckled.

           “I hope he doesn’t get himself hurt,” Fiddleford fretted.

          Outside, Janice had one foot on a speaker and played her fancy black guitar that was connected to it through a wire. “ _Danny! Dan, Danny!_ ” She stopped playing. “Come on out! Come on down!”

          Stanley crossed his arms and stopped in front of her. “You realize he’s not here, right?”

           “Yes!” Janice scoffed and then hesitated. “…what?”

           “He went out campin’ with his family today,” Stanley stated. He muttered under his breath, “And if you’d listen to him every once in a while, you’d know that.”

           “What was that?” Janice bristled and set her foot on the grass.

Stanley stated, “I said that he’s not here and you would know that if you listened to him.”

           “Oh, ho ho! You want to get into it, don’t you?” Janice prompted with an irritated sneer. “Then let’s get into it, kid! You think I don’t know what’s going on?” She poked him in the chest and stalked forward, admittedly causing Stanley to take a few steps back. “It’s pretty obvious you don’t want us dating, huh? Isn’t that right?”

          Stanley stopped and nearly caused Janice to run into him. She still towered over him. She was somehow able to make her straggly body look bigger than she actually was. Stanley nodded. “That’s _very_ right.”

          Janice’s sneer turned into a cocky smirk. “You’ll stand by that, twerp? Well, fine! Let’s just ask Dan if he’d rather spend time with you and your dorky little brother.” She attempted to pull out her phone, but Stanley tore it away from her.

          He got up on his toes and puffed out his chest. “You do _not_ speak to my brother that way! You might be a girl, but I’m not afraid to punch you!”

          Janice grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him up. “Is that right, kid?”

          Stanley growled and grabbed her wrist. “That’s right!”

          Janice snatched her phone and threw him down. “You want to fight? You. Me. Circle Park. Three o-clock. We finish this.” She stalked off, grabbing her guitar and speakers she went.

 

          Stanley stalked around the living room, arms crossed tight, eyes narrowed in a glare, and hands clenched. “She’s insufferable! How can like anyone like a woman like _that?_ What’s her problem, anyway? She thinks she can pick on someone smaller than her?”

          Stanford sighed. “Stanley, you should really learn to cool your temper. I thought we left Glass Shard Beach _to get away from_ the fighting, at least for the summer. I hate seeing you all banged up, you know that.”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Lee, I agree with your brother. Also, Ford: I agree with _your_ brother. You shouldn’t pick fights, but don’t let a challenger like Skinny Jeans walk all over you. Find a balance. Or maybe just hate each other in secret. That works, too.”

          Stanley stopped and looked back at her. “Hate her in secret? Like girls do?”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Yep! It’s surprisingly effective.”

           “Oh, yeah, and we can trade dresses, too,” Stanley agreed with a roll of his eyes.

          Fiddleford shook his head. “I don’t know, Lee. Teenagers are dangerous. Those hormones turn them inta killing machines! One of my cousins, Thistleberg, said he got inta a fight with a teenager. He tore Thistle apart! He had to stay in the hospital for a week! We were just talkin’ about it. I know fer a fact teenagers can be really dangerous.”

          Stanley scoffed, “Please! I fought teenager before- ones way bigger and stronger than Janice.”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Lee, you’re strong and your determined. But she’s got at least three or four years on you and she’s twice your size. Keep in mind who’ll have to patch you up when she kicks you in the face.”

          Stanley hesitated but shook his head. “No. She’s insulted me, Ford, Fidds- she’s a total jerk and thinks she’s the best! _Someone_ has to take her down a peg and I guess that someone’s me.”

 

          Later, Mabel sat at the table, fiddling with a “new attraction” consisting of a rabbit with deer antlers. Waddles lay under her. Stanford sat at the living room seat, idly scribbling in his notebook.

          On the TV, two women stood in comfy seats across from each other. _“Girl, why you ackin’ so cray-cray?”_ the woman on the right asked and stood up. The audience stood up and clapped.

           _“‘WHY YOU ACKIN’ SO CRAY-CRAY?’ will be back after these short messages,”_ the TV announced.

          Stanford sighed. “Stanley’s so hot-headed. He’s going to get himself killed!”

           “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Mabel denied. “You’ve got to face your fears and stand up for yourself and others. Stanley’s the hero type. He does that.”

           “I don’t think he’s afraid,” Stanford stated. “He never is- at least, he doesn’t act like it. I think the only thing he’s scared of is heights.”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Heights. If anything, we should probably help him get over his fear of heights.”

           “Don’t think that’s possible,” Stanford denied. “He’ll just blow it off.”

           “So, Fordsy, since we’re talking about fears, you don’t seem the sort to go off. You’re more cautious, really, not afraid. So, what are you hiding?” Grauntie Mabel got up and fetched a step-ladder from beside the cabinet to get glue.

           “Nothing,” Stanford replied with a shrug. “I don’t really have anything like phobias or stuff close to that. I’m a logical person and illogical fears are just not something I have.”

Grauntie Mabel raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

           “Yes.”

          Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “Well, alright. If you say so.” Stanford continued to write in his notebook. Stanford jumped as an advertisement for “Gummy Snakes” came on TV. The mascot, a yellow snake, hissed and smiled. Stanford bit his tongue and quickly looked down at his paper again. Grauntie Mabel looked at the TV and then at him.

 

          In the arcade, Stanley played _“FIGHT FIGHTERS_ ” by himself. He picked out the characters he wanted, Rumble McSkirmish against Dr. Karate, and a little pixelated plane flew from the east coast of the US to Japan. “Stupid Janice, such a jerk!” he grumbled as he played.

           “ROUND ONE! FIGHT!” Dr. Karate beat Rumble McSkirmish. “K.O! CONTINUE?”

          Rumble McSkirmish’s head popped up on screen on a red and yellow background. “A WINNER NEVER RUNS AWAY FROM A FIGHT !!”

          Stanley stuck out his tongue and checked his watch. 12:04 p.m. “Ugh. I wish I could continue boxing practice. Stanford’s not that good, though. Oh well.”

          He pulled out a quarter to put it in the game. The coin fell out of his hand and rolled around to the side of the machine. “Aw! Really?” He bent down to grab the quarter when he noticed a bit of graffiti carved into the bottom right side of the machine. It was covered with a thick layer of dust. “Huh?” Stanley wiped away the dust to see it more clearly. “‘To unleash ultimate power’? Well, I do like things that are ultimate.” Stanley prompted and then stood up. “Back, back, hold, forward, back, forward, down, hold, quarter circle, forward, triple punch!” The machine shut down. Stanley scoffed, “Oh, very funny.” The machine shuttered. Stanley took a few steps back. “Uh… what?”

          The black screen blazed in white light so bright it nearly blinded Stanley. He shielded his eyes against the glow. The machine stated, “ _SELECT YOUR CHARACTER!_ ”

          “Uh… Rumble McSkirmish?” Stanley called back.

          The machine shuttered and flickered with electricity. Then, Rumble McSkirmish leaped from the screen of the game, spun in a circle, and then landed on the ground in front of Stanley, one hand up and the other in a fist on the cracked ground. The machine’s light faded. In front of Stanley was now the sandy-blonde haired, shirtless Fight Fighter- still pixelated as if he was in the game. Now that he was set in real life, Rumble looked a bit blurry. Stanley’s eyes went round. “You’re… _real?_ ” He hesitated and then held up his hand.

          Rumble high-fived him. “High-five!” Rumble announced, high-fived Stanley, and then sat up so that he was on one knee.

          Stanley hissed and waved his hand. “Ouch! Your pixels are really sharp.”

          Rumble McSkirmish stood up and, hands tight in fists in front of him, swayed from foot to foot. “GREETINGS, CHILD-BOY! I AM RUMBLE MCSKIRMISH, FROM THE U.S.A!” Rumble’s voice was loud and uneven as he put emphasis on random words in random parts of his speech. Rumble then showed off his abilities, punctuating each move with its name. “PUNCH! KICK! PUNCH! KICK!” His foot came down and, on its way to the ground, hit Stanley.

           “Ow! Cool!” Stanley laughed.

          Rumble looked at the change machine next to him. “CHANGE MACHINE! CHANGE ME INTO A POWERFUL WOLF!” Rumble yelled and destroyed the change machine with a punch.

           “Ha!” Stanley laughed to himself. “With Rumble here, I can learn the fighting moves from the world’s greatest fighter!”

          Rumble flashed red. “I need power ups!”

           “This is amazing!” Stanley laughed. “Man, I gotta show Ford!”

 

          Grauntie Mabel stood in the entrance room, Waddles by her feet. Wrapped about one of her arms was a bright yellow, young python. “Now, remember, Banana: this is a test to see if he likes snakes or not. It’s not about you personally.” Banana flicked her tongue. “Ooooh! You are adorable!” With that, Grauntie Mabel walked into the living room. “Hey, Ford.”

           “Hello, Grauntie Mabel!” Stanford called back.

          Grauntie Mabel stopped beside him and turned her head. “What are you writing there, kiddo?”

           “Oh, just theories about parano- OH MY GOSH!” Stanford yelled and jumped so hard he fell off the side of the chair.

           “Ford! What’s wrong?” Grauntie Mabel ran around to his side and held out a hand. Banana, wrapped around Grauntie Mabel’s other arm, flicked her tongue.

          Ford attempted to take her hand but then scooted back and ended up pulling himself to his feet. “Wh-why do you have a _snake?!_ ”

           “Her name is Banana,” Grauntie Mabel informed him. “She belongs to a friend of mine. I thought I’d let you say hi to her! I thought you said you weren’t scared of things.”

           “N-not irrationally. Snakes are dangerous!” Stanford pointed out.

           “Banana wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Mabel denied.

           “Snakes are predators, Grauntie Mabel. They eat other animals.”

           “Yeah, a rabbit, maybe, but not a fly,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out. “Come on. Pet her! She loves being pet. She’s not going to bite you.”

          Stanford looked behind himself and then at the snake. Banana flicked her tongue. Stanford reached out his hand so that his fingers touched the top of the snake’s head. Banana flicked her tongue. Stanford howled as her tongue touched the palm of his hand and he jumped back.

          Grauntie Mabel looked at Banana. “We’re going to have a lot of work to do, huh, girl?”

 

          In the kitchen, Stanley looked through the fridge. A fly buzzed through the kitchen. Rumble punched the air so quickly only a blur attached his hand to his shoulder. Once the fly was dead, Rumble put his hands on his hips and laughed.

           “Well, we don’t have any traditional power ups: turkey legs, pizza boxes, or gold rings,” Stanley explained as he looked through the fridge. Between a carton of milk and glass of green Mabel Juice with die and a cyclops doll in it was a plate with half a taco. “How about… half a taco?” Stanley took the taco and offered it to Rumble.

           “Place it on the floor,” Rumble stated and pointed down. Stanley set it on the ground. Rumble crouched. The taco vanished. When Rumble stood up again, a box labeled “EQUIP” popped up over Stanley’s head. The symbol for a fire, and apple, a CD, and a taco appeared in four boxes. Each box took a red outline one at a time until it reached the taco. The box ringed and the taco appeared at the left side of the box. “NEW WEAPON AQUIRED” was at the top and the words “1/2 CRUNCHY BORDER TACO” flashed red and white.

           “I wish I could do that.” Stanley watched as the box disappeared.

           “Now I must defeat the world’s greatest Fight-Fighters. Take me to the Soviet Union!” Rumble declared.

           “That’s gunna be tough… for a number of reasons,” Stanley admitted. Didn’t the Soviet Union disband or whatever? “But I do know a fighter here in Gravity Falls.”

          Rumble knelt. “Maximum Power?”

          Stanley nodded and gave rumble one of Janice’s posters. “Her name is Janice V. She’s sort of like my arch-nemesis.”

          Rumble, amazingly, did not laugh. “Did she kill your father?”

          Stanley huffed. “Well, she’s dating one of my friends and she’s a stuck-up bully.”

          Rumble crumpled up the paper. “And then she killed your father!”

           “Uh, sure,” Stanley answered. _Oh man. What if Stanford heard that? Or Mom? Or Dad? I’d be very dead, that was for sure._ “Anyway, I was hoping you could, y’know, teach me how to fight so I could fight her.”

          Rumble laughed. “Your question makes my shoulders bounce! Fire ball!” He threw a fireball out the window. “Upper cut!” He jumped up and punched a hole through the ceiling. “Downer cut!” He slammed his fist down and landed in a crouch. “Bowl of puunch!” He swiped a large, glass bowl of punch from the fridge, drank it, and then threw it on the ground.

           “So, you’ll help me?” Stanley prompted.

           “Challenge accepted! Press start!” A blue start button popped up in front of Stanley. When he pressed it, it flashed red and vanished.

          A door opened and closed somewhere.

           “Oh no! I think that’s my great aunt! Stay perfectly still!” Stanley ordered. Rumble, arms up, swayed from foot to foot. “I said stay still.”

           “This is as still as I can get!” Rumble denied.

 

          Fiddleford stood in the attic. He looked over a pane of glass he’d just repaired in the window. Stanley and Rumble walked through the door. “Hey, Fidds!” Stanley called.

          Fiddleford turned around. “Hey, Le- OH MY GOSH!” Fiddleford yelled and jumped back. He nearly tripped himself and hit the glass he’d just repaired. “Wh-who’s that?”

           “This is Rumble McSkirmish,” Stanley stated. “He’s going to be teaching me how to fight.”

           “The child gave me a taco,” Rumble announced.

           “Are you _crazy?!_ He’s a fighting machine. Stanley, you could get yourself killed! Not to mention that’s cheating!” Fiddleford protested.

           “Eh, I guess it’s like cheating.” Stanley shrugged. “Well, see you later, Fidds!”

           “Please don’t get yourself killed!” Fiddleford called after him as he left.

 

           “Tell me your opponent’s special moves,” Rumble stated.

          Stanley shrugged. “Playing guitar, probably. And being rude.”

           “Her guitar will be no match FOR THIS!” Rumble pulled out a metal pipe and whipped it around.

           “Where’d you get that?!”

           “I punched an oil drum!” Rumble announced.

           “Uh, trust me. We won’t need that to defeat her,” Stanley denied.

          Rumble dropped the pipe. “Yes! We will defeat her WITH THIS!” He picked up a katana and swung it.

           “Whoa! …this street has _really_ dangerous litter.”

 

          Grauntie Mabel sat at the living room table, Stanford’s notepad in front of her. Banana was still coiled around her arm. Stanford, accepting his fate of never being able to retrieve his notepad, stood near the doorway. Grauntie Mabel petted Banana. “You’re the cutest little python ever, aren’t you?” Banana flicked her tongue. “Ford! Come on, Banana’s not going to hurt you.”

          Ford rubbed his hand, the one Banana had “licked”. He shook his head. “No, I’ll stay over here. She’s going to wrap herself around your neck and kill you! Snakes are dangerous!”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s a sweet pie. Now why don’t you come over here and take your notepad back?”

          Stanford didn’t move.

           “It’s okay, Ford. There comes a time in everyone’s life when you need to face your fears head on. But it’s not easy for anyone. This is a controlled place, Stanford. Banana would never hurt you. She’s been with people all of her life.” Grauntie Mabel looked at Banana again. She didn’t get up. She didn’t even change her tone from that of a person explaining why snakes flicked their tongues to people curious about it. Stanford didn’t move, either. He still watched her. _Banana really isn’t doing any harm… she looks peaceful enough… Still, snakes are scary! Snakes are terrifying; they kill other animals. Pythons can kill animals way larger than them just by squeezing them! In fact, if Banana wanted to, she could strangle Grauntie Mabel and there would be nothing he could do to stop it! …but Grauntie Mabel was just fine. Banana wasn’t killing her because she didn’t want to kill her. Maybe… Banana isn’t that vicious._

 

          Stanley walked with Rumble McSkirmish down to the park. _I have a few hours. Rumble and I can practice and then–_

_Diiiiiiiing, diiiiiiiing, diiiiiiiing!_

          Stanley stopped. They were in Circle Park. The clocktower struck three. Janice sat on a bench near the jungle gym. She looked over at him, hood over her head. “Well, well, well! Look who decided to show up.” She stood up and crossed her arms. “I thought you’d chicken out. You ready to settle this? Who’s your friend? Why is he so… blurry?” She narrowed her eyes at Rumble.

           “This happens to be the greatest warrior that has ever lived!” Stanley boasted.

           “Yeah, right!” Janice scoffed. “Hey, Eye-Patch! What did the kid promise you? More tape for your forearms?” She was the only one of them to laugh at her joke.

           “How can you laugh when you killed this boy’s father?!” Rumble barked.

          She stopped laughing. “What?”

          Stanley glanced back at Rumble and then turned to Janice. “You know what? I’m going to give you a chance to back down.”

          Janice laughed. “Oh! Is it because you’re scared? Well, too bad, kid. You’re the one who wanted to _fight!_ ”

          Upon hearing the word, Rumble roared and swung at Janice. She ducked to avoid being destroyed. “WHAT THE-?!” She yelled and attempted to run but Rumble grabbed her hoodie and picked her up.

          “Rumble?! What are you doing?!” Stanley hissed.

          Rumble chucked Janice at the jungle gym, where she landed firmly in the center. He crouched and held his hands back. Blue energy sparked and grew in his hands. Janice yelped and launched herself away from the equipment as Rumble obliterated it with a fire ball. Rumble stated, “I will not stop until the person that has dishonored you is DESTROYED!” He punched a tree with Janice’s band poster nailed to it and chased the teenager out of the park.

           “Oh no.”

 

          Stanley chased down the two to a large, red brick building labeled “BARRELS & CRATES INCORPORATED”. “Something told me this would be their first stop,” Stanley stated.

          A few barrels shattered the window of the very top story. Janice jumped out of the window and onto a fire exit that zig-zagged down. She did not hesitate to jump onto the ladder. Rumble burst through the brick wall, a barrel in his hands.

          “Whoa, chill out, man!” Janice begged. She ducked and skittered down the ladder as Rumble threw a barrel at her.

          Stanley jumped back as the same barrel exploded on the ground in front of him. “Rumble! You’ve got to STOP!”

          Rumble ignored him and threw barrels at Janice as she ran down the zig-zagging slopes to the ground. She hopped over each one that came at her until she reached the ground, where she ran off. Rumble leaped off the building and landed on a box of crates, which he easily destroyed, before following Janice.

          Stanley had to follow the two through the whole town, yelling at Rumble to stop. _I don’t like Janice, but that doesn’t mean I wanted her_ dead! _She’s going to die and then I’m going to die. That’s just how this is going to work._

          Finally, they neared the water tower. Fiddleford joined him. “Lee, please don’t tell me that video game character is trying to kill Janice because of you!”

          Stanley shook his head. “He is! I’m trying to stop him!”

          Fiddleford groaned. “Oh no. …do you need any help?”

          “Yes.” Stanley nodded. “I do.”

          “Well, then, count me in!” Fiddleford announced and then grimaced and put a hand on his side. “Ah cramp!”

 

          Inside of the living room, Grauntie Mabel still sat at the living room table. Banana stayed around her arm. Stanford was no longer in the doorway. He was now beside Grauntie Mabel. He stared at the python, who stared right back. Banana flicked her tongue. Stanford set a hand on her scaly body, near Grauntie Mabel’s wrist. He tensed and winced. Then… nothing happened.

Stanford relaxed and looked at his hand and then Banana. “She… didn’t bite me.”

           “She sure didn’t,” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

          Stanford smiled and then petted Banana’s head. She flicked her tongue. Stanford laughed as she “smelled” the palm of his hand. “She… she’s kind of nice.”

           “She is, isn’t she?”

          Stanford continued to pet her. Her scales were so smooth. He didn’t know what to expect what a snake to feel like. Yet with those scales and the way they move, he didn’t expect them to feel so smooth. With all that muscle, he didn’t expect her to be soft. Her body gently expanded and contracted like a machine that made no sound. She got bigger and then smaller, bigger and then smaller. How big were a snake’s lungs? Why did so much of her move when she breathed? What are her bones like? He couldn’t feel them when petting her. Were her scales that hard?

          Grauntie Mabel, after letting Stanford pet her for a while, offered, “Do you want to hold her?”

           “H-hold her?” Stanford tensed. Okay, petting was one thing. Holding was another! Banana flicked her tongue. “But I’m smaller than you. What if she attacks me?”

           “She won’t attack you,” Grauntie Mabel denied. Stanford was surprised, and quite relieved, when he didn’t find a teasing tone in her voice. “She’s a good snake.” Stanford hesitated and then sat down next to his great aunt. Grauntie Mabel reached out her arm and set her hand on Stanford’s shoulders. “Now, just relax. She’s not going to hurt you.” Banana flicked her tongue and slowly slithered away from Grauntie Mabel and onto Stanford, where she slithered over his shoulders and coiled around his arm. The very tip of her tail rested on his shoulders.

          Stanford couldn’t raise his arm. Banana was too heavy. Yet, as he held her, he didn’t feel afraid. Despite her size and the sheer muscle power she held, she was… fascinating. It felt as if someone had taken a heavy, if soft and smooth, rope and coiled it around his arm. She wasn’t tight, but she wasn’t loose enough to let go. He petted her with his other hand. Banana flicked her tongue. Why had he been afraid of Banana, again?

 

          Fiddleford and Stanley stopped. They watched as Janice scaled the water tower and hid at the top. Rumble stopped at the base of the tower. “CHALLENGER SIGHTED!” he roared. Janice screamed.

           “Time to save the day,” Fiddleford stated.

           “More like fix a mistake,” Stanley agreed and ran forward.

           “YOU CAN HIDE, BUT YOU CANNOT HIDE!”

           “Rumble! Listen to me!” Stanley called. Rumble ignored him and kicked and then punched one leg of the tower until it buckled. Janice lost her grip and fell as the water tower tilted. Rumble grabbed her by the back of her hoodie and held her a foot up in the air.

The game announcer from FIGHT FIGHTERS declared, “FINISH HER!” The words flashed and appeared above their heads.

           “No, no, no, don’t!” Janice yelped. “Don’t finish me!”

          Rumble pulled his fist back. It glowed and sparked in blue energy and tufts of red and gold fire. Then, the shot was vaporized as a coin hit his head. Rumble whipped his head back. “HYUUNNNGHHGHHXZK?!??!”

          Stanley yelled, “RUMBLE!” Once he was sure Rumble was looking at him, he stated, “Rumble! I have somethin’ to tell you! Janice didn’t kill my father.” Stanley winced at the sudden thought of it being a lie bothered him.

          Rumble gasped. “Then who did?!”

          Stanley shook his head. “Nobody! No one did. He’s still alive. I lied to you.”

          Rumble gasped again, his eye going wide. “Then you’re actually a… _BAD GUY?_ ”

           “Yeah. I guess I am,” Stanley stated.

          Rumble hung Janice on a tree branch by her hoodie and turned around. He knelt, one foot on a rock before him. A disembodied voice spoke up. _“My entire journey, a lie! My honor has been disgraced! Sensei warned me not to join the path of evil… the boy has led me astray!”_ He opened his eye and spoke aloud. “If Janice V. is not the last stage, then it must be…” He spun around and pointed at Stanley. _“YOOOOOOOOOOOU!”_

          A red “START” button appeared beside Stanley.

          Fiddleford shook his head. “No, no! Don’t do it! He’s going to literally kill you!”

          Stanley shut his eyes. “I summoned him, Fiddleford.” He opened his eyes. “This is my fault. I need to end this.” He pounded the button with his fist. It turned blue and vanished.

           “Fight like a man it is, then.” Fiddleford stood back.

          Above them, their names, a “health bar” and a whole line of zeros appeared. “READY?” the announcer prompted. Stanley got in a fighting stance. “FIGHT!”

          The two charged at each other. Rumble held his hands together. “FIREBALLTHROWLIGHTNINGBALLTHROW! FIRE!” he roared. Stanley ducked as the lightning-fire ball soared over him and knocked over a tree. Rumble kicked Stanley, causing him to soar back. The boy landed on the grass with a hard wheeze. Stanley gasped and wheezed as the hit and fall knocked the wind out of him. Surprise and pain kept him down. He’d gotten in plenty of scraps, but he’d never been put down that easily. Even when the boys threw him to the ground and kicked him, Stanley hadn’t lost the ability to breathe for so long so easily! Above him, his health bar was drained dramatically. Rumble laughed. “YOU FIGHT LIKE A GIRL! WHO IS ALSO A BABY!”

          Adrenaline and instinct pulled Stanley to his feet. Embarrassed and infuriated for being put down so easily, Stanley charged rumble and jumped in an uppercut. Rumble fell back and hit the ground. “Ha! Yes!” Stanley hissed. Rumble’s health bar drained by half a percent. “Oh no.” He ran out of the way as Rumble jumped to his feet and threw another fire ball at him. This one destroyed another tree. Stanley jumped up onto a tree. Fiddleford climbed another tree and waved his hand at Rumbel’s health bar. It rippled like water but did not diminish. Fiddleford frowned at it.

          Rumble paced under Stanley’s tree. “No! I have no looking up animation!” He struggled to raise his head, only to fall completely back. Flat on the ground, he punched and kicked at nothing.

          Stanley jumped out of the tree and laughed. “So, what should I do? Roll him up and put him on my wall?”

          Rumble roared, “FIST! PUNCH! _RAAAAAAAAIIIIIIN!_ ” Purple pixilated fists rain down from the sky and crashed into the ground, trees, Stanley, and even Fiddleford. Fiddleford, after getting knocked over the head by one, fled under a tree. Stanley backed up and fell flat on his back. Rumble jumped to his feet, free at last. The fists stopped raining from the sky. Stanley stood up as well and faced him. Rumble stated, “Never underestimate that I have PUNCHES!” He roared and held up one arm, which now sparked with lightning.

          Stanley looked up. His own health bar flashed. The tiniest sliver remained. He looked back down at Rumble as energy crackled around Rumble and his body went up in flames. Stanley took a deep breath and sighed. He could not defeat Rumble. There was no use in even trying to defend himself or run away, not again. So, Stanley held out his arms in defeat. Rumble twisted his arm back and then punched Stanley repeatedly. The game announcer cried as words appeared, “SUPER POWER NINJA TURBO NEO ULTRA HYPER MEGA MULTI ALPHA META EXTRA UBER PREFIX… COMBO!”

          Stanley landed in an injured heap. Rumble McSkirmish, proud of another victory, stood up straight with his hands on his waist. Stanley opened one bruised eye and wheezed, “You, sir, truly are the greatest fighter ever.”

           “RUMBLE WINS!” the game cried.

          Rumble struck a pose, one hand out with two fingers up. “WINNERS DON’T LOSE!”

          Stanley opened both eyes and smirked. “Did you really?”

           “GAME OVER!” the game announced.

           “Huh?” Rumble gasped and then began to dissolve. “No! _No! NOOOOO!”_

          Stanley shakily got to his feet. “Heh. Game over.”

          The words “THANK YOU FOR PLAYING” wrote themselves in the air. Three flashing ‘A’s appeared. Stanley hesitated and then touched each one until it spelled ‘LEE’.

          Fiddleford chuckled nervously. “N-nice.”

          Stanley and Fiddleford walked to where Janice hung. She struggled and finally managed to get herself free. She fell into a pile of leaves in consequence. She jumped up and confronted Stanley. “What?! Who-who was that guy?! ERG! Why is it that whenever you’re around there’s always some kind of ghost or monster or whatever?!”

          Stanley shrugged. “I don’t know.”

           “That guy almost broke my neck!” Janice ranted. “Do you know how mad I am right now?!”

           “So, you and I have to fight now, huh? Just get it over with. Do your worst.” Stanley shrugged.

          Janice smirked and raised her fist, “Heh. Yeah! I’m… I’m going to enjoy… aren’t you going to run?”

           “Nope,” Stanley stated.

          Janice hesitated. “…are you sure?” Stanley nodded. Janice paused and then lowered her hands with a scoff. “It’s not even worth it! I… need to save my hands. As lead guitarist.”

          Dan, backpack over his shoulders, strolled up to them. “Hey, guys! We heard some crazy screaming out here.” Behind him, “Tough Girl” Wendy and Dan’s three younger brothers roamed the destroyed area.

           “Dan?” The two of them turned around to see Dan behind Janice.

           “You’re back!” Stanley greeted. _Oh no._

           “Yeah! I- whoa, wait. You two look like he- eck! You guys weren’t _fighting_ were you?” Dan looked between them.

          Janice cut in before Stanley could speak, “No! We weren’t fighting. Some monster ran through here destroying everything and nearly killed me. Then this little freak fought him! Nothing about us or you or anyone else.”

          Dan grinned. “Man! You are a brave kid, huh?” He ruffled Stanley’s hair and kissed Janice. “I’m going home to unpack. Text you later!” With that, he returned to his family. His mother was still looking over a map.

          Stanley looked up at Janice. “Why’d you do that?”

Janice sighed. “I’m not a bad girl, okay?” She crossed her arms. “Besides, I don’t need to hear him complaining about working with you or whatever.” She turned to him. “But stay out of our business. Or next time, I’m telling him the truth.”

          Stanley nodded. “You got it.”

           “Good.” She started to walk away, but hesitated. “Look, since you’re a boy, I’d get why you don’t know this. But you should really learn to hate people in silence. Girls do it all the time. None of us get our necks snapped.” With that, she stuck her hands in her pockets and left.

Fiddleford stood beside Stanley. “Well! I reckon you’re not going to have any more trouble with her! Heh. Do you want help getting back to the Shack?”

          Stanley’s eyes went round. “Oh no. They’re going to kill me.”

           “They won’t kill you,” Fiddleford denied. “They might be angry with you, but they’ll understand. If you go to the hospital without telling her, Ms. Pines will be mad at you.”

Stanley sighed. “Yeah. Guess so. Thanks, Fidds.”

 

          When Stanley and Fiddleford got home, Fiddleford opened the door for him. Stanley limped inside. He could hear Grauntie Mabel speak from the next room. “Oh! Is Stanley back?”

           “It’s past three…” Stanford stated.

          Stanley stopped in the living room. “I-I’m home.”

          Stanford’s eyes grew round in horror. Stanley winced as Grauntie Mabel gasped and ran to him. “Stanley! Was this from that Janice kid?” She narrowed her eyes. “I knew she was a jerk but beating up on a boy like this–!”

           “No. It’s my fault,” Stanley denied. “I tried to cheat my way out of fighting her and hurt myself. It’s my fault.”

           “Cheat?” Grauntie Mabel echoed.

           “Yeah. I tried learning how to fight from someone else, but ended up getting them to fight for me. So, I had to stop them.”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Kid, if you didn’t want to fight… Hey. Come here. Let me get you patched up. Your brother’s holding Banana! She’s a Burmese Python, and the sweetest one there is.”

          Stanley sat down at the table next to Stanford and Banana. “I thought you hated snakes.”

           “I… was scared of them,” Stanford agreed. “But Grauntie Mabel taught me not to fear them.”

          Stanley chuckled. “Man! If she could make you not scared of snakes, she can do anything!”

 

          That night, Grauntie Mabel returned Banana to her keeper. After dinner, Stanford went to their bedroom. Stanley attempted to limp after him. However, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Stanley looked back. “Grauntie Mabel?”

          Grauntie Mabel got down on one knee. “Have I ever told you about when I got in a fight like that?”

          Stanley shook his head.

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Well… when I was your age… my brother was getting picked on. He was quite the special boy. Everyone teased him because of it.” _Like Stanford._ That was the first thought to enter Stanley’s mind. _But her brother…? Grauntie Mabel never talks about her brother._ “He was a bit of a wimp, you see. He tried fighting back, but they were relentless.” She shook her head and sighed. “One day, though, I got sick of it. So, I made my brother sick and dressed up as him the next school day. When the bullies came to pick on me, as they thought I was him, I challenged them to a fight.”

           “They believed you were him?” Stanley echoed.

          Mabel nodded. “I did. I was very good at dress-up, even back then. It helps that I looked like him! Heh.”

          Stanley thought for a moment. “…what happened? Did you defeat them?”

           “Sorta,” Mabel answered. “I got the snot beat out of me, but I took on all three of them. By the end of it, I was in as good a shape as you. But I managed to take a few down with me. I thought for sure that wasn’t enough, though. I didn’t bring them down, I didn’t put them in the ground. But the next day, when my brother came back from school to visit me in the hospital, do you know what he said?”

          Stanley shook his head. “What did he say?”

           “‘What did you do, Marbles?’” Mabel made her voice a bit squeakier, and slightly broken, like a prepubescent boy’s. “‘I went to school and those three boys didn’t even talk to me! None of them would!’” She laughed and her voice returned to normal. “I might not have beaten those boys to the ground, but I made them leave him alone. That’s all that mattered to me. That’s all that does matter. But after that, my parents decided to put me in martial arts so that the next time they threw a punch, I could punch harder.” She let go of him. “Stanley Pines, boxing isn’t going to cut it this summer. Once you’re ready, meet up with me. I’ll teach you how to throw a punch- and to block one.”

          Stanley grinned. _Yes! Finally! A sparring partner!_ “Thank you, Grauntie Mabel!”

          Grauntie Mabel got up. “Ah you’re welcome. Now go to bed, you little scamp!”

 

HVV GSV UR **I** V RM SRH **V** BVH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is, folks! Stanley _switch_ isn't one to back down from a fight. In fact, he's _a_ probably picked more fights than fights picked him. I imagine _with_ Mabel wouldn't be too happy about him fighting, but would also not _z_ want him to run away from challenges he made. Also, Mabel knows martial arts! And, the snake thing isn't cannon to the original story. I just found it in a fan-comic made of Original Stanford being extremely fearless- unless it came to snakes. Then he was terrified of snakes.


	11. Little Stan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gleefuls still seek vengeance on the Pines family. When Stanley, bored and jealous, finds an object worthy of destruction, will he stay responcible and listen to his peers, or might he lose it to the wrong hands?

          “Zombie attack? Never works, they don’t take orders.” The morning sun sent light spreading out over the valley. Wind brushed past houses and whistled through trees. “Blood rain? Ew, mess up my suit. Hehe. No, thank you.” The Gleeful household, the definition of a cookie-cutter household, stood quiet as Gideon was out. The washing machine and drier ran somewhere in the house. In Bud’s room, Bud hunched over his figurine set of people and the wooden Mystery Shack. “Demon Caterpillars? Ugh, no!” He closed Journal Two. He looked over his homemade playset. “There has to be something, some way, to make the perfect revenge plan. I can’t just hurt the Pines family, no. I have to take something from them.” His hand came to his neck where his half-moon amulet once was. “I need to take something they cherish, something that will give me power… wait!” His gaze snapped to the Mystery Shack made from popsicle sticks. He held it up. “It’s _perfect._ ”

 

          The Mystery Shack was far from quiet. Stanford sat at a table with Fiddleford over a game of chess at the living room table. Dan sat at his station, idly looking at his phone. In the living room, Grauntie Mabel showed Stanley a modified taekwondo stance. “Keep your fists up,” Grauntie Mabel instructed. “Stay on your toes. With a hard, flat-footed stance in a strong base, you have more power, and you’re harder to knock over, but you’re a sitting duck. Be on your toes and shift your weight a bit. You are a bit easier to knock over, but that’s only if they hit you.”

          Stanley got onto his toes and shifted his feet so that one was behind the other and he was facing his left side. “Like this?”

           “Yes! Now, keep your hands close and don’t lock your elbows. Stay loose.”

          Fiddleford picked up a white pawn and moved it a square. “Pawn from C2 to C3.”

          Stanford picked up a black queen and then set it down on the other side of the chess board. “Queen from D8 to F6.”

           “Pawn from H2 to H3.”

           “Okay, so queen on F6 takes F2 aaaaaand check-mate.” Stanford used his queen to knock over Fiddleford’s queen.

          Fiddleford laughed. “How do you keep doing that? I need to practice more. …how about a round or two of 66? I got the cards.”

           “Sure.” Stanford took out the box they’d held the chess set in. Someone rang the doorbell.

          They watched as Grauntie Mabel opened the door with a wide smile. “Welcome to a world of mystery!”

           “Mabel Pines?” the man at the door, presumably a lawyer by his outfit, stood at the front door.

           “That is me,” Mabel answered.

          The man smiled. “Miss Pines, I’m from the Winninghouse Coupon Savers contest, and you are our _biiiiiig winner!_ ” he announced with a flourish of his hands. A cameraman trailed by two women holding a giant check for ten million dollars with balloons on either side appeared behind him.

           “I… won something? Big? _Whaaaaat?_ ” Grauntie Mabel laughed.

           “We’re rich!” Stanley gasped. “I’m gunna get a talking horse!”

           “I’m gunna get my own research equipment!”

           “Just sign here for the money,” the man stated and held out a few sheets of paper.

           “Well, of course!” Grauntie Mabel scribbled something down at the bottom of the top page.

          Bud jumped through the check and laughed. “ _HA!_ Mabel, you fool. You just signed the Mystery Shack over to _me!”_ Bud laughed and did a little dance. Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford gasped.

          Grauntie Mabel smirked. “You should probably check the signature.”

          Bud hesitated and then looked down at the document. “The shack is hereby signed over to… SUCK A LEMON LITTLE MAN”?!” Grauntie Mabel burst out laughing. The rest of the kids followed suit.

          Bud growled and tore the paper. “We are _not_ a threat to be taken lightly!” He and everyone with him backed off. “I’ll get you, Mabel Pines! _I’ll get you all!_ ” The door shut behind them.

          Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “Want to go back to practicing?”

          Stanley brightened. “Sure!”

          Stanford turned back to Fiddleford. “Do you want to deal, Fidds?”

 

          A few hours later, Grauntie Mabel went into her room. Stanley relaxed in the living room chair and watched TV. Stanford red Journal Three and jotted down notes over the encrypted messages. Dan rang up a few items for the lone customer in the gift shop before sending them off with a “Come back soon!” and leaning back in his chair again. Fiddleford adjusted some loose wires somewhere in the Shack.

          Stanley yawned, stretched, and got up. Stanford looked up as his brother approached him. Stanley looked over his notes. “So whatcha doin’?”

           “Decoding,” Stanford answered. “Also: practicing writing the ciphers. I’m trying to see if I can write in this really cool code.”

           “Uuuuuugh.” Stanley sat down by Stanford and set his head on Stanford’s arm. “I’m booooooored!”

           “Then go watch TV or something.”

          Stanley put a hand on the journal. “Pay attention to me!”

          Stanford gently picked up Stanley’s hand and set it on the ground. “I’m working on this.”

           “You can work on that later.” Stanley looked over Stanford’s shoulder at the book. He attempted to play with the pages.

          Stanford held it out of reach. “This is very fragile! Go read a book or something.”

           “Fine. You’re boring.” Stanley got up and trudged off. Fiddleford, finished with whatever work he’d been doing, sketched on a piece of paper. Stanley hopped onto a chair by the table. “So whatcha doin’?”

           “I’m drawing out plans for this robotic fish,” Fiddleford answered. “It’s going to use echolocation to see in its environment instead of lights along with heat-sensitive cameras to… I’m building a robot fish-lizard that can see in the dark. I was quite inspired by Old Lady Chiu’s invention. But instead of destroying boats, it’s going to map out the bottom of the lake and search for things.”

          Stanley nodded. “Cool, cool. I was thinking of going into the forest. Do you want to come with?”

           “Me? What about your brother?” Fiddleford prompted.

           “He’s learning ciphers or whatever,” Stanley replied.

           “Oh okay. Well… you aren’t really planning to go too deep into the forest, are you? I mean, if you’re bored, you can go to the arcade or something, right?”

           “Yeah, I could. But what’s the fun in that? Do you wanna go or stay here and work on that fish thing?”

          Fiddleford looked down at his plans. “…you’re goin’ out either way, right?”

          Stanley nodded. “Basically, yeah.”

           “Alright. I reckon I should make sure you don’t get attacked by gnomes or somethin’.”

           “Yes!”

 

           “This is pretty deep, don’t you think?” Fiddleford prompted. His gaze flicked about the trees.

          Stanley shrugged. “Not really. I mean, we know how to get back to the Shack. Oh! Glowing mushrooms!” He knelt and looked over a glowing blue mushroom.

          Fiddleford took out a pencil and pad and started writing about, and sketching, what he saw. “Ford’s a much better artist than I am. You really shouldn’t touch it, though. It could be poisonous.”

           “Ford draws a lot,” Stanley agreed and stood up. “You brought a med-kit or whatever, didn’t you?”

          Fiddleford patted his backpack. “A med-kit, survival knife, a few tools, _“Poisonous and Medicine Herbs of Oregon”_ book, and an extra pad and pencils. But that doesn’t mean you should touch poisonous things.”

           “Eh, whatever.” Stanley shrugged and held onto his backpack. “I can’t believe you only brought a knife. Good thing I brought a few weapons myself. Like Ford’s crossbow!”

           “Does he know you took it?”

          Stanley shrugged and kept walking. “He probably expected it.” Fiddleford sighed but didn’t comment. “You know, Ford would probably really like this place. It’s so cool looking! …oh, what’s that?” Stanley stopped and craned his neck.

          Fiddleford stopped beside him. Deeper in the forest, pink and blue lights glinted. “What do you think it is?”

           “I dunno!” Stanley sped up his walk. Fiddleford stayed behind him. “Whoa. What’s that?” They carefully picked their way down the slope into a glade. Rocks gleaming with crystals popped up everywhere. Quite a few crystals popped out of the dirt, too. Most were only a few inches tall and quite thin. Some were a good foot long. The most attractive was the crystal in the center that reached the height of a two-story house with long, giant crystals clustered around it. The highest concentration of smaller crystals originated near it, too, like an oak tree that dropped its acorns.

           “Whoa,” Fiddleford breathed, his eyes going round. “What _is_ that?”

           “I dunno. But that’s where the light is coming from!” Stanley pointed to the crystal. Beams of purple and blue light glowed as the sunlight hit the crystal.

          Fiddleford knelt down to look at a few of the crystals. He gasped in shock as a buck no larger than his hand bounded over the grass near his fingers. “Is that… a miniature deer?”

           “Where?” Stanley knelt beside him. Fiddleford pointed to a cluster of ferns where the buck now stood with another buck and two does. An eagle smaller than the bucks flew past Stanley’s nose. “What the heck is this?”

           “Maybe these crystals can shrink things,” Fiddleford suggested.

           “Can it make things grow?” Stanley asked.

          Fiddleford shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to test it ou- oh no.”

           “What?”

           “Stay still,” Fiddleford squeaked. “There’s a mountain lion _right there!_ ”

          Indeed, creeping out of the forest was a mountain lion. The hungry creature stalked out of the brush. The two kids yelled and ran back as the cat leaped. As it jumped through a beam of purple light, the cat shrank until it was the size of Fiddleford’s finger and landed on his lap. The cat hissed and ran off.

           “Ha!” Stanley laughed. “That was awesome! So, the purple light makes things smaller!”

           “If the purple light makes things smaller, I reckon the blue light should make things bigger,” Fiddleford theorized and took out his notepad.

          Stanley stood up. “It’s glowing on the ground, so maybe it doesn’t affect the ground. Crystals are growin’ out of the rocks so those probably can’t grow, either.”

          Just then, a monarch butterfly fluttered past him. It shrank into near nothingness in the purple light. Once it got into the blue light, it grew to the size of a one-story house and fluttered off. It broke a tree in the process. Stanley laughed, “Cool!”

           “Can the smaller ones do that?” Fiddleford prompted and then took out a screwdriver. He gently dug the screwdriver into the ground and uprooted a small, perfectly smooth and clean-cut crystal. He stuffed it in his backpack, where it was dark and couldn’t catch the light.

           “Should we bring it home and play with it?” Stanley gasped.

           “We shouldn’t play with it. …but I would like ta see if we can control it.”

           “Sweet! Let’s go back to the Shack!”

 

          When they got home, the two of them ran into the attic. Stanford gave them a passing glance as they left. After a moment’s hesitation, he went back to studying.

          Stanley grabbed a flashlight from under his bed along with some duct-tape. Fiddleford gently cut a small hole through the middle lengthwise and strung a thin, if sturdy, string through it. Then, he duct-taped the ends of the string on either side of the flashlight so that the gem was snuggly fit above the light source. “Smaller.” Fiddleford pointed it down and turned on the light. The purple beam fell over a chess pawn and shrank it. “Bigger.” He turned off the flashlight, flipped the gem over, and pointed it at the pawn again. This time, a blue light shone on the pawn. It grew so big it nearly burst through the roof. “Too big!” He shrank it down to normal size.

           “This is so cool!” Stanley oohed. “Our very own shrink-grow flashlight! What should we do with it, first?”

           “It’s kinda dangerous, Lee,” Fiddleford pointed out. “I don’t think we should be playin’ with it.”

           “What’s the harm?” Stanley waved his hand. “I mean, we can always turn stuff back to normal, right?”

          Fiddleford looked down at the flashlight. “I, uh… I guess…”

           “Fiddle!” Grauntie Mabel called from downstairs. “I could use your help here!”

           “Coming!” Fiddleford set the flashlight down and ran downstairs.

          Stanley picked up the flashlight and grinned. The possibilities were _endless._ What to do first…?

 

          A knock came at the back door. Confused, Grauntie Mabel opened the door only to reveal Bud with a baseball bat and jar of bugs standing on her back porch. “Oh. Hello there, Bud! What are you doing here?” Grauntie Mabel’s eyes flicked to the trees and yard. Gideon was nowhere in sight.

           “Howdy, Mabel!” Bud greeted with a cute smile, which quickly turned sinister. “In this jar is a thousand cursed Egyptian termites. If you don’t hand over the deed _right now_ I will _smash_ this jar and these termites will destroy the shack with you inside!”

          Grauntie Mabel looked over his shoulder. “Oh, what’s that?” Bud turned around. Grauntie Mabel smacked the jar out of his hand. It didn’t break when it fell, but the lid fell off.

           “Oh no!” Bud gasped as the termites attacked his bat and then him. “Aaah! Get it off!” he cried and ran off.

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Try something less dangerous next time, kid.”

          Bud spun around. “Y’all may have one this battle, but mark my words, your family has a weakspot! I _will_ find it! Ahhh!” He ran away, swatting at the termites as he went.

 

          Stanley strolled outside, the flashlight in his hand. He turned the blue beam on his hand, making his hand grow but nothing else on his body changed. When he turned the purple beam on it, it shrunk back to normal size. “Cool!”

           “Stanley!”

          Stanley stopped and turned around as Stanford called his name. Stanford ran down the steps of their back porch to meet him. “Fidds said you found some sort of magic crystals in the forest.”

           “Yep. Pretty cool, huh?” He held up the flashlight. “It was my idea to tape it to a flashlight.” He turned it to a caterpillar on the ground. The insect grew bigger than a car and shuffled into the forest.

          Stanford snatched the light away from him. “Stanley! You could cause some real damage. Look, I red about these in the journal and–”

          Stanley took the flashlight back. “Hey! I found it! I get to keep it.”

           “You’re going to seriously wreck something!” Stanford denied and attempted to take it away.

          Stanley held I out of reach and put a hand to Stanford’s chest to push him back. “I don’t see why _you’d_ care! All you do is stick your nose in that stupid journal. I found it, I made it into a flashlight, and so I get to keep it!”

           “Stanley, you’re _going_ to mess something up! You screw stuff up all the time, this isn’t going to be different,” Stanford snapped back.

          Stanley shoved him back, causing Stanford to fall onto his back with a huff. “ _I_ mess stuff up all the time? _You’re_ the one that gets us in trouble with those stupid mysteries and monsters and stuff!”

          Stanford got up and chased after Stanley as he started running around the yard. “Me? I don’t get us in trouble. _You_ bait anything you see! You don’t care about safety or consequences or- agk!” Stanford tripped over himself and fell face-first into the ground.

          Stanley’s grimace faded in the slightest. “Oh- oh! I didn’t- hey!”

          Stanford grabbed onto the flashlight and pulled it back. Stanley, his grip still tight on the flashlight, tugged it back. It ended up slipping out of both of their hands and landing a few feet away. Bud grabbed the flashlight and then looked at them. “Well, well. This is a nifty little thing you got here. Mind if I borrow it?” Without waiting for a response, he turned the thing on them. The boys cried out in surprise as they were shrunk down the size of Bud’s hand.

           “Wh-what?” Stanford wheezed and looked around. “The flashlight!”

           “We’ll find another. Just run!” Stanley yelped and attempted to run. Bud slammed a jar down on top of them. Stanley looked about. Quite suddenly, he understood how a lightning bug felt.

 

          Bud stalked through the empty living room and into his own bedroom. Bud shut the door and, cackling, rushed to a table beside his mirror-dresser. The shack miniature figure along with little wooden dolls representing each member of the Pines family stood on the dresser as well as a lamp, brush, an airhorn, and a whole bunch of other things. Bud opened the jar and flipped it so that the two boys landed on the top of the dresser. “You two!”

          Stanley helped Stanford to his feet. “You let us go, you monster!”

          Stanford adjusted his crooked glasses and glared back at Bud.

          Bud chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t hurt a hair on your little heads,” Bud cooed and then smirked. “If you cooperate.”

           “No!” Stanley snapped. “We’d never do anything for you!”

          Bud picked him up by the scruff of his shirt. “Maybe you’ll change your mind after this!”

          Stanley struggled in his grasp. “No! I’ll fight you until the day I–” He looked down at the bag of Gummy Koalas Bud held. “Gummy Koalas!” Bud dropped him into the bag, where he immediately picked up the first koala he saw and bit into it.

          Bud turned to Stanford. He flicked on the lamp and turned it on Stanford. He hissed in pain and put a hand over his eyes to block out the light. “Now _you!_ Tell me exactly how you came across this magic item. Did someone tell you about it? Did you… _read_ about it somewhere?”

          Stanford glanced at Journal Three in his jacket. He looked up at Bud. “Lean closer and I’ll tell you.”

          Bud leaned his head down, ear turned toward Stanford. Stanford rammed his body into the airhorn trigger, causing it to go off in Bud’s ear. Bud howled and, one hand on his ear, took a step back. He spun around, a blush coming to his cheeks at being tricked. He snarled and spun around, knocking the lamp clean off the dresser and raised one fist. “I could squish you right now!”

          For a second, A strike of fear stabbed into Stanford’s chest. He took a few steps back.

          Bud took a deep breath. “Calm yourself, Bud. You can use them. _You can use them_ …”

 

          Fiddleford set up another mirror to complete the mirror maze. Grauntie Mabel looked over the maze. “Ha! This mirror maze is one of your best ideas yet! We’ll make a fortune off this!” Fiddleford beamed and looked up at her.

          The phone rang.

           “Who could that be?” Grauntie Mabel walked out to the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Hello! This is Mabel!”

          Bud, brushing his hair back as he spoke, stated, “Mabel Pines, list very closely. I have your nephews. Hand over the deed to the Mystery Shack to me, Bud Gleeful, right now or harm will fall upon them!”

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “I’m sorry kid, but this must be your worst plan yet. They’re fine. I saw them playing in the yard hardly a few minutes ago.”

           “I have them in my possession!” Bud snapped. “I will text you a photo!”

           “‘Text me a photo’? I hope you realize this is a landline.”

           “But-” Bud started. The phone hung up. “Hello? _Hello?_ Arrgh!” He slammed the phone back down. He hesitated and then cackled. “What am I _doing?_ I don’t need _ransom!_ I have this!” He held up the flashlight and looked over it. Stanford and Stanley looked at each other, mirroring each other’s look of concern. “I’ll shrink Mabel and take the Shack for myself!” He turned to the horrified twins. He put the flashlight in his pocket and scooped up the Grauntie Mabel, Stanford, and Stanley figurines. “And if you step out of line, _SMASH!_ ” He tore the heads off the dolls and threw them on the desk. Stanford jumped back to avoid being hit by his own head.

           “Bud!” Gideon’s voice drifted through the closed door. “The ice cream truck is here!”

          Bud brightened. “O-oh! I’m coming!” He raced out of his bedroom and shut the door behind himself.

          Stanford grabbed the lip of the Gummy Koala’s bag and attempted to use his weight to drag it down. Stanley pushed and climbed on it to add to the weight and drag them down. Stanley landed on the desk. “Ugh! Now I’m all sticky.” He took another bite out of the head of a bodiless Gummy Koala.

           “Stanley! Not the time! We have to save Mabel!” Stanford scolded.

           “I know!” Stanley set the gummy’s head down.

           “Okay, how are we going to do this?” Stanford paced around in a circle. “Bud’s got magic.”

           “And a zillion inches on us,” Stanley agreed.

          Stanford looked over at the hairbrush. “Hmm… I think I have an idea.”

 

          A rope made of hair tied to Bud’s hairbrush reached the floor. Stanley and Stanford wasted no time as they climbed to the floor and then running through the carpet. They easily squeezed under the door and to the living room, where they hid in a pair of shoes. Gideon and Bud ate ice cream by the living room table. The flashlight was on the table.

          Bud capped the ice cream tub and washed himself off with a wet cloth. “Father, could you give me a ride to the Mystery Shack?”

           “What do you have planned this time? Did the termites work?” Gideon prompted.

          Bud growled, “No.” He smiled. “But I have a new plan. I’m going to capture Stanley and Stanford and use them as ransom!” He took the flashlight from the table. “Using this.”

          Gideon took the flashlight and looked at the gem. “And what does this do?”

           “It shrinks things.” Bud pointed the flashlight at the spoon he’d been using and shrunk it.

           “Hmm…” Gideon’s gaze sharpened. “Alright. As soon as you get that deed, you give that to me, okay?”

           “Yes, Father.” Bud ran out the house, flashlight clutched in his hands.

          Stanley and Stanford climbed out of the boot and ran to the door, where a doggy door was in place. By the time they got outside, Gideon had started the car. Stanley jumped up and grabbed onto the bumper. As soon as he was in place, he held out his hand for Stanford. The clutched onto the license plate for dear life as the car took off.

          Finally, the car rolled to a stop just out of sight of the Mystery Shack. Stanford and Stanley fell off the bumper onto the ground. Bud left the car, humming under his breath. “I’m comin’ for ya, Mabel!”

          The twins raced after him. Stanford wheezed, “How are we supposed to get that flashlight?”

           “I don’t know!” Stanley gasped. “We’re just going to have to get him to drop it or something!”

          Stanford looked about and then smiled. Gompers plucked at some grass. He looked at his brother’s back, where half a koala hand stuck to him. Stanford took the piece of gummy and whistled. Gompers perked up. “Stanley! Once Gompers gets here, I want you to throw that at Bud!”

           “Got it, bro!” Stanley unstuck his hands from it. Gompers baaed and then sniffed Stanley. Stanley threw the gummy as hard as he could. It landed short of Bud. Still, Gompers charged him to get to the gummy. Bud looked back and yelped. The flashlight fell out of his hands. Once Gompers ate the gummy piece, he started eating Bud’s pants leg. Stanford and Stanley, running around Gompers so that they wouldn’t be seen, arrived at the flashlight. “Okay, Lee, get me first.” Stanford struggled to flip the flashlight gem.

           “Why should you go first?” Stanley countered.

          Stanford groaned. “That doesn’t matter right now!”

           “Yeah, it does. Let me go first.”

           “You’ll punch Bud and then everything will go sour.”

           “Bud _needs_ to be punched.”

           “Stanley!”

          Gompers bleated in pain and ran off.

           “Wouldja look at that.” The two looked up just in time for Bud to grab them by the back of Stanford’s jacket and Stanley’s shirt. Bud chuckled. “I daresay you almost got the drop on me if it wasn’t for your sibling bickering.” He let go of them and then grabbed them again, this time pinning their arms to their sides and nearly suffocating them to stop them from making a noise above a wheeze. Bud burst through the door and pointed the purple-beam flashlight at the first thing that reacted. “The Shack is ours, Mabel Pines!”

          The Pines twins stared at the ground in horror. Fiddleford, hands on his head, shook violently. He opened one eye and then squeaked and shut both eyes.

           “ _What?_ ” Bud breathed. He growled and threw the three of them in a jar. He held it up to eye height. “Tell me where Mabel is!”

          Stanford put a hand on Fiddleford’s wrist. Fiddleford glared at him. “Never! I’d never rat out Ms. Pines!”

          Bud shook the jar and then held it up by the lid, as if preparing the drop it. “Come on, farm-boy, is she really worth your life?”

           “Fiddle!” Grauntie Mabel called from somewhere deep in the house. “That lamp you brought in here won’t turn on! Could you give it a look?”

          Bud’s gaze snapped to Grauntie Mabel’s direction. “Ha! There you are!” He stuffed the jar in his suit pocket and stalked off. “Oh, Mabel! I’m comin’ for ya!”

          The three attempted to break the glass they were in, but it didn’t even crack. Stanley caught sight of Gideon’s school ID card and stuck his tongue out at it. Eventually, the three sat down. Fiddleford ran his fingers through his hair, though in his tension, he tore a few strands out. “Ugh! I’m so sorry. I messed this up.”

           “Nah, man. Don’t blame yourself,” Stanley sighed. “If I hadn’t told ya to bring that thing home, or even listened to ya when you told me not to toy with it, none of us would be in this mess.”

          Stanford sighed, “I’m sorry for saying that stuff to you, Stanley. Why did you want that flashlight so badly, anyway?”

           “Well… it’s just that you’re the smart one and you make all these things or make all these plans. I’m just the dumb one who picks fights and messes everything up. I thought that flashlight was really clever so I just… I dunno.”

          Stanford shook his head and put a hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “You’re not dumb, Lee! I don’t care what anyone says, you’re smart. I mean, you made that flashlight, right? You also found the eight and half president! Or when we’re at home and you thought up the Stan o’ War and even made a model of it. Besides, I thought you were the confident one.”

          Stanley smiled and put a hand to the back of his head. “…thanks, bro. Yeah, well, confidence is easy when you’re me, so…” Stanley shrugged and laughed, which caused the other two to follow suit. Stanley held up a fist. “We cool?”

           “We’re cool.” Stanford fist-bumped him. “Are you cool?” Stanford turned to Fiddleford.

          Fiddleford looked at him and then gave him a shy smile. He fist-bumped Stanford. “We’re cool.”

          Bud entered the last room and then stopped. It was full of mirrors- all of which reflected Grauntie Mabel. “Mabel!”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Oh, hello, Bud! You know, I’ve been looking for someone to try out my new mirror maze. Then again, you’re not welcome here.” She shrugged and her reflection disappeared from all of the mirrors.

           “You come back here!” Bud yelled as he stuffed his flashlight in his other suit pocket and ran into the maze.

           “Try and find me, twerp!”

          Stanley held Stanford on his shoulders, who held Fiddleford. Stanley wheezed, “You done yet?”

          Fiddleford caught his hand on one of the holes at the top and moved it. “Almost! Almost… there!” He tipped the lid off and grabbed onto the lip of the jar.

           “Let’s get that flashlight before Bud gets Mabel!” Stanford announced and, with Fiddleford’s help, got up and out of the jar. They threw down a loose string from inside of Bud’s pocket to help Stanley out. The three of them popped their heads out of the pocket and looked about. Stanford pointed to the flashlight in Bud’s other pocket. The three of them climbed up onto Bud’s shoulder and crept over his neck. They plopped down into his other pocket. Before they could push it out, Bud snatched the flashlight.

          Ahead of them, Grauntie Mabel’s reflection loomed over Bud. As quick as he could, the boy pointed the flashlight at her. The light reverberated and shot off like a laser. Bud yelped and, hands over his head, flattened himself to the ground. After springing off multiple mirrors, it shrunk a moose head on the wall. At this, Grauntie Mabel laughed.

           “Grr- no!” Bud threw the flashlight at the offending mirror. It promptly shattered. Grauntie Mabel stopped laughing. “Hey! Careful with the merchandise!”

          Bud picked up the flashlight. With a devilish smile, he began smashing mirrors left and right.

          Finally, Grauntie Mabel stepped out from the maze, hands on her hips and mouth curved in a disapproving frown. “You little troll! Those mirrors cost me ten each! I expect you’ll be paying for everyone you broke!”

           “Oh contraire!” Bud cackled. “It will be _you_ who pays!”

          Fiddleford gasped, “Ms. Pines is doomed!”

          Stanley smirked. “No, I have a plan. To his armpit!”

          Stanford shook his head. “Uh, nuh-uh.”

           “Go!” Stanley pushed Stanford’s head under Bud’s jacket.

          Bud pointed the flashlight at Grauntie Mabel. The gem sparked purple as outside light reflected off it. Grauntie Mabel held her hands up close to her chest. “Whoa, what is that?”

          Grinning ear to ear, Bud stalked forward. Grauntie Mabel walked backwards. “Finally, after all these years, after every humiliation! Your house, your business, your family- everything will finally be mine! You have no one to protect you now!” Grauntie Mabel’s back hit the wall. Her eyes darted about and her feet and hands shifted. “Prepare for the wrath of Bud Glee-” Quite suddenly, Bud’s voice changed pitch as he laughed. “Bud Glee-” He collapsed and giggled uncontrollably. Stanley and Stanford were tickling him.

           “Um…” Grauntie Mabel raised an eyebrow and lowered her hands. “What is- are you okay?”

           “No! No, stop it!” were the only words Bud was able to say.

          Grauntie Mabel got down on one knee. “Look, kid. I think this rivalry business is getting to you. Heh. I mean, I understand. I’m a pretty formidable foe.” Bud started foaming at the mouth. “Hey, uh, now. Maybe you’ll get me one of these days. Maybe, you know, run your evil plan by a friend. Workshop it! But first you should get your issues in order.” Bud still laughed uncontrollably. Grauntie Mabel sighed and stood up. She took out her phone and began rolling Bud out of the house. “Gideon. … ugh, no. Stop calling me that. … Okay, whatever. But I caught your son here. Guess he’s going into one of his episodes? Does he have those? … He just collapsed and started laughing wildly. … Mhm. Get here and leave.” She hung up the phone. “Creepy old man.”

          Finally, Bud was rolled out the front door. Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford abandoned Bud and ran onto the porch. Bud looked about and got onto his knees. He patted his pockets. “Oh no! My light!”

           “You’re the light of my life, too, kid.” Grauntie Mabel shut the door. “Poor kid. A therapist is what he needs.”

          The kids managed to pry open the door and push the flashlight inside by the time Grauntie Mabel left. Stanley waved his hand to the flashlight. “You first, bro.”

          Stanford walked around to the flashlight’s switch. Stanley switched the gem side and pushed Fiddleford in front of the flashlight. A blue beam caused Fiddleford to grow up to his original size. Stanley returned to his normal size. Stanley picked up the flashlight and regrew Stanford. Stanley looked at the flashlight. “Well… guess we should throw this thing away.”

          Stanford shook his head. “Nah. I mean, as long as you don’t play with it, we could keep it. It’s a pretty nifty invention. Who knows when we’ll need it?”

           “Fiddle? Oh goodness, did he leave?” Grauntie Mabel’s voice came from somewhere in the hallway.

          Fiddleford’s head snapped to her direction. “I’m here, Ms. Pines!” He rushed down to the hallway.

          Stanly and Stanford looked at each other. “Want to play some mini-golf?” Stanford offered.

          “Sure!” Stanley raced up the stairs, Stanford at his heel.

 

GSVB N **Z** B MVV **W** GL URMW ZMLGSVI DRAZIW GL KIVULIN Z “D **R** AALIXRHN”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, here she is! Who even _switch_ forgets it's Monday? Hahaha me. It's totally because I'm not watching LordMinion777's stuff. Anyhoo, Stanley and _a_ Stanford are pretty much the same height throughout _with_ their lives. So it wouldn't make sense to make one taller. Also: bored siblings are the worse type _z_ of siblings.


	12. Summerween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley and Stanford, newcomers to Gravity Falls, happen across a holidays quite like Halloween that that natives of Gravity Falls call "Summerween". Like Halloween, the boys get to dress up and get free candy! However, laying in wait to snap up children who fail to feel the Summerween spirit, is a creature rarely spoken of. When someone doesn't feel the spirit of the day, the creature is unleashed. Will Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford defend themselves from their spirited assailant, or will the misgivings of the night be their downfall?

          Late daylight caused hues of gold and pink to swim across the sky. Mabel’s shiny blue car decorated by flowers pulled up to the driveway of a dark, squat store. Mabel shut off the car and stood up. “Welcome to the Summerween Superstore!” An inflatable bat stood over the store. A giant green roll with the words “SUMMERWEEN SUPERSTORE” decorated the front. They could see the many decorations, toys, and candies through the window.

           “Summerween?” Stanford prompted. He, like the other two boys, were outside the car. “What’s that?”

           “It’s like Halloween in the summer!” Grauntie Mabel explained. “The people here love Halloween so much, they celebrate twice a year! And wouldn’t you know it? It’s today!”

           “Something about this feels unnatural…” Stanley started.

          Fiddleford shook his head and explained enthusiastically. “Almost everyone has candy out and there are more people on the streets because no one has homework. It’s free candy, guys!”

           “Since it’s the summer,” Grauntie Mabel began. “I don’t regulate candy.”

          Stanley and Stanford looked at each other.

 

           “To the costume aisle!” Stanley and Stanford exclaimed. Stanford sat in a wheelbarrow and Stanley pushed it down the aisles. Fiddleford pressed down a skeleton head attached to a bowl. It’s eyes flashed red. “I’d lend you a hand… but I don’t seem to have one!” A laughing soundtrack looped twice. Fiddleford laughed with it.

           “Sir, sir!” Fiddleford turned around to see a worker with a dolly behind him. “Could you please stop pressing that?”

           “Um… okay.” Fiddleford waited for her to get out of sight before he pressed it again.

          Farther down the store, Grauntie Mabel looked over a few barrels of fake blood. “Hehe… just need to drain this everywhere!” She picked up a barrel. “My house is going to rule this year!”

          Stanford huffed as both he, Stanley, and the wheelbarrow tipped over. A back of Jack-o-Mellons fell on top of them as they crashed into the cart. They laughed. Fiddleford attempted to press as many of the skeleton-heads as he could to see if he could make them laugh or joke in sync. Mabel clicked her tongue as she looked behind herself. “Whoops! I think this one is leaking!”

          The worker who had scolded Fiddleford stood behind the counter. She picked up a walkie-talkie-phone from behind the counter. “Have the police eject the Pines family from the store.”

           “NOT TODAY!” Grauntie Mabel threw down a smoke-glitter bomb and ran off, wielding two galloon-containers of blood. Fiddleford, unable to see in front of him, followed with one as well. Stanley pushed Stanford in the wheelbarrow to their car.

           “Did you pay for this?” Stanford asked.

           “Definitely!” Grauntie Mabel replied. “Now let’s get in the car!”

          From inside the store, the cashier opened one eye and held up the money given to her. As glitter still clung to her face and eyes, she could only guess it was the right amount. “Ugh. I hate Summerween.”

 

          Inside the Mystery Shack, which was now completely decorated, Stanley and Stanford sat in front of each other before the TV. Fiddleford, dressed up in a cloak and robes with a soft leather boots, sat on the living room seat. He held the giant bowl of trick-or-treat candy.

           “I’m so excited! We’re going to destroy this night!” Stanley announced.

           “There’s no way we can’t,” Stanford agreed. “We’re going to get the most candy…”

           “And have the biggest stomachaches!” Stanley agreed.

          Fiddleford looked between them. “Wow. I’ve never seen you two so excited before!”

          Stanley and Stanford turned to him. Stanley shrugged. “Well, back home, we’re sort of a big deal.”

           “Kings of Halloween that is!” Stanford showed him a few pictures he had in jacket pocket. They were various pictures from various Halloweens. Both were dressed in matching outfits such as kittens, salt and pepper, and zombies. “Twin costumes- people eat it up.”

           “Well, you better be careful,” Fiddleford warned. “It’s a night of ghouls and goblins. That’s not to mention the Summerween Trickster.”

           “Summerween what?” Stanley prompted.

           “In legend, the Trickster goes from door to door eating children who lack the Summerween spirit!” Fiddleford explained.

           “Well, you don’t have to worry about us.” Stanford shrugged.

           “We’ve got spirit to go around,” Stanley agreed and took out a piece of candy from the bowl Fiddleford had. He immediately coughed and had to stop himself from spitting it back out. “Ugh! What is this? I’ve never seen these brand before.”

          Stanford picked a few up. “Sand-pop? Gummy chairs? Mr. Adequate-bar?”

           “This is all Cheap-o, loser candy!” Stanley huffed.

          Fiddleford sucked in his breath. “Don’t talk like that or the Trickster will hear you!”

          Stanley picked up the candy bowl. “You’ve got to stop being so superstitious, Fidds!” He set the bowl down by the window and dropped a few handfuls into the garbage can outside.

          The doorbell rang.

          Grauntie Mabel called, “Trick-or-treaters! Quick! Give them that candy!”

          Stanley took the bowl to the door and opened it. “Happy Summerwe- ah!” He jumped.

           “’Sup, Squirt?” Janice held up her hand.

          Dan, whose arm was around her shoulders, waved as well. “Hey, Lee!”

           “Dan! Hey, what’s up?” Stanley took a few steps back to allow the two inside.

          Dan plucked is jacket off the coat rack by the door. “Ugh. I left my jacket here- again.”

          Janice looked at the bowl of candy. “What’s with the candy? You going trick-or-treating or something?”

           “Well, I, uh, actually-” Stanley started.

           “Shut up, Janice! Of course he’s not going trick-or-treating!” Dan scolded lightly as he put on his jacket.

           “Oh! Yeah, heh, trick-or-treating is for babies,” Stanley agreed with a short laugh. “…I guess.”

          Dan perked up. “You should come to the party Greg’s throwing! His parents are out of town so it’s going to be totally amazing.”

           “Not surprised you didn’t hear about,” Janice huffed and pulled out a crumpled orange invitation.

          He read it and then looked up. Dan and Janice were by now in Janice’s van. Stanley ran outside. “Hey, guys! I’ll see you at the party!”

           “If you’re not too busy playing dress-up,” Janice huffed.

          Dan shot a short glare at her and then turned back to Stanley. “It’s at nine! Don’t forget!”

          Stanley looked down at the party invitation, and then to the bowl of candy. “What am I going to tell Ford?”

 

          Stanford, Gompers at his side, and Fiddleford stood in front of Grauntie Mabel in the entrance room. Fiddleford held his empty potato sack bag. A brown cloak went over his black robes. A hood with an eye-shaped circle crossed out fell over his shoulders. His staff, a long brown tree branch stripped by twigs and leaves and tipped by a shiny green, translucent gem in the shape of a teardrop. Stanford wore a white one-piece suit with a long tail, silver horns on his head, and white wings on his back. “Grauntie Mabel!” Stanford greeted and bared his teeth in a smile. Fake vampire teeth made him look like he had fangs.

          Grauntie Mabel cooed, “Oh look at you kids! You are going to be the best ones out there! I am so glad you kids are dressing up. It’s such a shame when people say you’re too old to dress up. Gompers has such a nice outfit, too.” Gompers wore a helmet and a silver outfit that had lines drawn on it to look like armor. Two open bags were turned into a saddle over his back.

          Fiddleford chuckled, “You dress up when it’s not Halloween, Ms. Pines!”

           “True, true. But not normally like this!” She raised her hands. She wore one of her thinner sweaters, this one blue with a pink salmon on it. Fins attached to her ears. Silver and green strands wove into her hair, tied in a fishtail braid. Instead of pants, she wore a very, very long scaly skirt that ended in a finned tail. There was a hole at the bottom for her feet and enough room to walk, but not run. Her hands, when spread, showed that she had pale gloves that were webbed. Waddles, dressed up in a green and blue hippocampus costume, stood beside her. “So, where’s your brother?”

           “He’s upstairs,” Stanford answered. “He should be down any second! His costume his amazing.”

           “Oh! There he is!” Fiddleford looked up the stairs. Grauntie Mabel and Stanford followed suit. Stanley… wore a red and white striped shirt and jeans. “Huh. That’s a good Stanley costume?” Grauntie Mabel raised an eyebrow at him.

           “Where’s your costume?” Stanford prompted.

           “I, uh… can’t go,” Stanley replied. “I’m feeling a bit sick. It’s probably that candy.” He put an arm around his stomach and leaned on the rail. “Why don’t you go on without me?” His voice turned into a wheeze at the end.

          Grauntie Mabel clicked her tongue. “It looks like someone tried eating the candy before working for it. Don’t worry, I do that every year. I’ll come back with some chamomile tea. Works every time.” With that, she turned and walked into the kitchen.

          Stanford pouted at him. “You would never in your life turn down candy.”

           “Wait, so, you’re really not feeling well?” Fiddleford prompted. “Maybe you should sit down, then. I can share mine.”

           “He’s just fine,” Stanford denied.

           “I’m not! Really,” Stanley tried.

          A hard knock came to the door.

          Stanley opened the door. Hardly fitting on the porch was a man with spindly legs as long as Mabel was tall, long gangly arms that reached a bit past his knees, and a squat, thick body covered only by a scarecrow’s jacket and hat. A smiley bag wrapped around his face to create a mask. “Trick or treat.” The man’s voice was slow and heavy.

           “Don’t you think you’re a bit old for trick-or-treating?” Stanley prompted. “Sorry.”

           “But, wait! I-” The door shut.

           “Stanley!” Stanford chided. “Why’d you close the door?”

           “I told you, Ford, I’m just not feeling it tonight!”

          The door knocked again, this time louder.

          Stanley opened the door again. “Look, man, just go to another house!” He shut the door again.

          Stanford crossed his arms. “Where’s your Summerween hospitality?”

          The door knocked again, louder with frustration.

           “I’m not gettin’ that,” Stanley stated.

           “Well then I will.” Stanford walked past him and opened the door. He smiled, baring his fangs. “I apologize for my brother. He–”

           “SILENCE!” the long-legged creature demanded, pointing a finger straight at Stanford and holding the other arm close to his head in a fist. Stanford went silent. “You have insulted me! For this you must pay… with your lives!”

          Stanford smiled and chuckled, “Oh-ho! Nice!”

           “‘Nice’?” the creature repeated and stepped through the door. Stanford skittered back and then yelped as he tripped over his tail. The creature stood up tall, nearly scraping the ceiling.

           “The Summerween Trickster!” Fiddleford squeaked.

          Outside, a plump little kid in a pirate outfit hobbled to the door. “Twick-or-tweat! My name is Gordy!” The Summerween Trickster grabbed Gordy by the head and swallowed him whole. “Remember me!” he yelled as he was eaten.

          The kids gasped. Stanley helped Stanford to his feet. Fiddleford clutched his staff. The Summerween Trickster went on in a calm, heavy voice, “There is only one way for you to avoid his fate.” He tapped Fiddleford on the head. He ducked his head and took a few steps back. The creature put his hands together. “I need a treat. If you can gather five hundred pieces of candy,” he took out a Jack-o-Mellon. He lit it with his finger. “-and bring it to me by the time the last lantern goes out,” he blew out the fire. “I will let you live.”

           “Five hundred treats in one night?” Stanley exclaimed. “That’s impossible!”

           “The choice is yours,” the Summerween Trickster reminded him and walked backwards until he was outside. “You must trick-or-treat… or die.” He folded his legs and then leaped onto the roof. The kids followed him outside. They were able to see a glimpse of his body retreat over the roof of the house. Then, he was gone.

           “Oh my gosh,” Stanley breathed. “Do you know what this means?”

           “Yes,” Stanford stated. “You’re going trick-or-treating with us.”

          Stanley shook his head and stalked about. “How are we going to get that much candy in one night?!”

          Stanford jumped onto a haybale in their yard and clapped his hands. Gompers hopped up next to him. “Listen up, people! This is crazy and we were just cursed by a legendary child-eating monster. But he messed with the wrong people. With Fiddleford’s spirit, Stanley’s strength, my smarts, and all of our creativity put together, we will get that candy and have fun doing it! Even if it takes all night!” Fiddleford clapped his hands, his staff held under his arm.

          Stanley glanced down at the orange flier he had crumpled up in his pocket. 9:00. His watch read 6:00. “Er… I’m sick, remember?”

           “Stanley, what’s worse?” Stanford asked. “Being eaten by a candy monster, or going trick-or-treating with us?” When Stanley hesitated, Stanford grabbed him by the arm and ran off. “Come on!”

 

          All throughout the neighborhood, kids and adults alike ran about the streets. Dan’s family dressed as Vikings. The three boys held a battering ram. “Tough Girl” Wendy raised her fist. “For glory!” The children charged through the already open door. Down the streets, Sherriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland walked. They were both dressed as each other. As they walked, they complimented each other’s costumes on their realism.

          Meanwhile, Stanley, still not in costume, rolled a wheelbarrow while Stanford and Fiddleford walked. Stanley sighed, “I still don’t see why we can’t just buy the candy.”

           “That takes the fun out of ‘Trick-or-Treat-or-Die’,” Stanford pointed out.

           “I’m trying to the ‘or-Die’ out of it.”

          In front of Lazy Susan’s house, a pharaoh, alien, knight, and unicorn stood with their bags in front of them. The pharaoh rang the doorbell. “Trick-or-Treat!” he called once Lazy Susan, wearing a large ball of yarn with two of her cats in masks on it, opened the door.

           “Well aren’t you just the cutest? Is everyone in costume?” she prompted as she opened a bag of candy and poured a few pieces into each bag. “Oh, good! Wonderful!” she purred and waved once they left with a “Happy Summerween!”

          Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford ran up to Lazy Susan’s house. “Trick-or-Treat!” Although Stanford and Fiddleford seemed to be enthusiastic, Stanley was not.

           “Is everyone in costume?” she prompted and looked to each kid in turn. “Chimney sweep, lizard, horse, and… what are you supposed to be?”

           “I’m… not wearing a costume,” Stanley answered. “We’re kinda in a hurry here.”

           “Oh. I see.” Lazy Susan’s voice flattened a bit. She put a single piece of candy in each bag and nothing in Stanley’s wheelbarrow. “Enjoy!” She shut the door.

           “Three pieces?!” Stanley exclaimed. “We’ll never get five hundred by the end of tonight.”

          Fiddleford picked out a string of black licorice from his bag. “Oh! A black licorice? I didn’t know people gave these out on Halloween. Open candies aren’t usually the best.”

           “And a corn pop?” Stanford prompted. “Oh, and she gave Gompers a circus peanut. This… was the loser candy you were telling us about.” He pointed at Stanley. “We’ve got to up our game. You have to put on your costume.”

           “I told you that I’m not up to it, Ford!” Stanley denied and fake-coughed.

           “Oh really?” They looked up. The Summerween Trickster perched on the pole on all-fours like a spider. He climbed down put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. The boy froze in terror. The Summerween Trickster picked up the single piece of candy in his bag. “Hmm. I’ve seen better.” He dropped it, took the Jack-O-Mellon from next to Lazy Susan’s house, and leaped silently onto the roof of the house across the street. “Tick-tock!” He blew out the candle and then jumped back behind the house and out of sight.

          Stanford raised an eyebrow at Stanley. “What was that about being too sick to wear a costume?”

          Stanley sighed.

 

          Stanford stood on the steps of someone’s house and waved his arm to the bush next to him. “Introducing, for the first time in public:” Stanley stalked out of the brush wearing a suit if knight’s armor, a sword, and a shield. “The Knight and the Dragon! And his loyal steed.” Gompers baaed.

           “Ooooh!” Fiddleford gasped. “You two look amazing together! You really weren’t joking!”

          Stanley rang the doorbell and looked at Stanford. “Do you really think this will make a difference?”

          The door opened to reveal one of the burly men who spent their time in the biker joint downtown. A bowl of candy was in his hands. The two did a small dance before putting their arms around each other, spreading their arms out, and announcing, “Ha-cha-cha! Twins!” The man smiled, a small tear running down his beard, and dumped the entire bowl into the bag they held together without speaking a word.

          The next act, they included Fiddleford and Gompers. Not only were Stanley and Stanford’s matching outfits definite money makers, but the “Dragon, Knight, and Wizard” trio made an adorable little show.

          Stanley chucked pieces of candy into their wheelbarrow. “…thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six.”

          A few houses later, Fiddleford plucked his candy and threw it into the wheelbarrow. “…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four! One hundred and twenty-four!”

          Someone blew out the candle of their Jack-O-Lantern and went to bed.

          None of the houses were that scary. Adults normally dressed in the cliché outfits found in stores or easily made at home. Pirates, mummies, witches, clowns, and goblins answered the doors. Some people, like Lazy Susan with her yarn costume, were unique. The trio and their mighty goat-steed arrived at Thompson Determined’s house. Thompson Determined opened the door, a bowl of candy in his arms. The kids screamed.

           “That mask!” Stanley gasped. “It’s horrible!”

           “I’m not wearing a mask,” Thompson denied and grabbed a green monster mask from by the door. “This is my mask! Rawr!”

           “Oh, okay.” “Better, I guess.” “That’s actually better.”

          Thompson sighed and put candy in their bags.

          Stanford parked the wheelbarrow on the grass next to a couple of trees and bushes. He plucked the last few pieces of candy out of Gomper’s bag. “…four ninety-seven, four ninety-eight, four ninety-nine! Four hundred and ninety-nine! We just need one more!”

           “Yes!” Fiddleford hissed.

           “And it’s 8:30!” Stanley announced. “We have plenty of time to spare.”

          Fiddleford laughed, “And your cough went away!”

          Stanford picked up Gompers, who almost immediately fell asleep in his arms. “Last one to the last house is a rotten egg!”

           “No way!” Fiddleford cried and chased him.

          Stanley stayed by the wheelbarrow and looked about the street. He glanced at his watch and sighed. “Perfect time to go to the party! I am a genius.” A very familiar van slowed and turned the corner. Stanley gasped and pushed the wheelbarrow of candy behind the bushes. He wormed out of the armor and leaned against the tree.

           “Hey, Lee!” Dan called from the driver’s side.

           “Hey, Dan! What’s up?” Stanley called back with a bright smile.

           “Are you comin’ to the party, or what?” Dan asked.

           “What are you doing out here, dork?” Janice prompted.

           “Oh, I’m on my way. I like watching the trick-or-treaters,” Stanley replied with a casual shrug. “Nothing much.”

           “You still coming?” Dan asked.

           “Oh, definitely. Definitely.”

           “Well, see you there, then.” Dan waved.

           “Later!” Stanley called. The van drove off.

           “You’re going to a party?”

          Stanley spun around. Stanford, his sleeping goat in his arms, stood by the lamp at the corner of the street. Fiddleford held his bag, which contained the candy. Stanley stuttered, “Uh- oh! Yeah, I, uh–”

          Stanford threw the last piece of candy they needed at him. “That’s why you didn’t want to go and why you hurried us! You weren’t sick. You were trying to ditch us!” Stanford stalked up to him so that they were right in front of each other. “If it wasn’t for this monster, you’d have ditched us! On our favorite holiday!” Fiddleford sucked in his breath, eyes wide in surprise. “What happened to the Stanley that went nuts over Halloween? …where’s the candy?” Stanford paused in his rant and looked about.

           “Relax! The candy’s just over here, behind these bushes.” Stanley nodded to the bushes and led them to the spot he put the wheelbarrow. He pushed back the bushes. They stopped dead in their tracks. The bushes hid a cliff that jutted straight down a small, clogged stream. Their wheelbarrow, laying on its side, spilled all but perhaps a dozen pieces of candy into the steam.

           “What did you do?” Stanford breathed and turned to him.

          Fiddleford turned around. “Uh… guys?” When they looked back, they saw the streets were dark. The wind blew out a lit Jack-o-Melon mounted on a scarecrow.

           “Oh no!” Stanford gasped. “They’re all out!”

           “There!” Stanley pointed to the last lit Jack-o-Melon, held by none other than Old Woman Chiu.

           “He-he! Good night!” she chuckled and took off the lid of the melon.

           “NO!” the kids screamed and raced to her side.

           “Eh? Eh? What’s happening?” The old woman gasped and hopped from foot to foot.

          Stanford put a hand on her arm. “Don’t blow out that candle.”

           “Whaaaat?” she yelled.

           “DON’T BLOW OUT THAT CANDLE!” Stanford yelled back.

          She hesitated and then laughed. “I’m Old Woman Chiu!” She took a deep breath to blow out the candle. Stanley shoved her aside and snatched the Jack-o-Melon from her. She gasped and raced back into the junkyard. The three sighed in content. The Jack-o-Melon, lid open and exposed, went out.

           “Oh no.” The kids huddled together, eyes darted about.

          On the street, the haunting figure of the Halloween Trickster stalked up. The lights flickered as he passed. He stopped a few yards away from them and raised his hand. “Knock-knock!” The children backed up. The Trickster followed them. For each large step he took, they took two. “Where’s my candy?”

          Stanley, in front of the two others, held up his hands. “W-we have it! I swear! All five hundred pieces! Just check down there! We’ll help!” He tipped his head to the disturbed bushes.

           “I’m afraid that was your last chance.” The Summerween Trickster growled. Stanley chucked a piece of candy at him. The candy merged into his throat. The trickster laughed. His clothes tore as another set of arms sprouted from his back.

           “Go, go, go, go!” Stanley ordered and ran past the Summerween Trickster and out of the junkyard. Stanford and Fiddleford were very close to heel. The creature spun around and chased them, running on all fours with two limbs out and ready to snatch them.

          Fiddleford tripped over his robes and fell on the road in a heap. His hood fell over his head and the bag with half a dozen pieces of candy in it spilled out. “Ahk! HELP!” he screamed as a large hand wrapped around his chest and drew him into the air. Although he hit the Tricker’s wrist and fingers with his staff and hands, the Summerween Trickster didn’t even flinch.

          Stanford spun around to face him. His momentum–and tail–tripped him. The Summerween Trickster grabbed him, too. Gompers fell to the ground, baaed, and then fled. “Oh no! STANLEY!” Unfortunately, Stanley was no better off as a hand grabbed him, too. Fiddleford nearly wriggled out of the Summerween Trickster’s grasp, but the creature’s grip just tightened around him.

          Stanley looked about. “Oh no. If I wasn’t so stupid- argh! I wish Grauntie Mabel was here.”

          A car engine snarled behind them. The Trickster exploded as a truck burst through it. Bits and pieces of fluff, cloth, and hard pieces hit the deep indigo exterior. The kids fell to the ground. Gompers bounded to Stanford’s side. The passenger side door opened. A man, his body cloaked in black, stepped out. “Get in the car. You three are going home.”

           “Mysterious dude!” they exclaimed and immediately ran to his car.

           “Oh thank you!” Stanley sighed. “We’re saved!” He tried to smile at Stanford. However, Stanford didn’t look at him. Fiddleford sat in the front seat while the twins sat down in the back. Oddly enough, the scent of peppermint permeated the cushy interior of the truck. Was this truck new? The seats weren’t worn and the windows weren’t that dirty.

          The man shut his door and, once their doors were shut, locked them. “Seatbelts, everyone.”

          Fiddleford looked up at him. “How do you know where we live?”

           “I’ve lived here for decades,” the man stated and drove the truck. “And I listen to what people say. A few boys just came in for the summer and live with their tourist-trap great aunt. I’m assuming those boys are you.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah. Well, I don’t live with them, but I’m sure Ms. Pines will be able to drive me back home.”

          The man nodded. “I certainly hope so. I can’t stay for long. That da- dang Trickster has been skulking around this town every Summerween for a little over thirty years. As I’m an adult, he won’t take my bait anymore. Since the kids here are all in spirit, it’s been difficult trying to track him down. I’m surprised it only took my truck to defeat him.”

          Stanford rubbed his elbow, which had gotten hurt hitting the ground. Stanley looked down. “Oh! Are you okay?” Stanford looked away. “Mister? Do you have any bandages?”

           “Not unless he’s bleeding out,” the man stated. “I’m sure you have bandages for a scraped knee or elbow at home.”

           “Okay.” Stanley looked down at his seat.

          Tufts of white and black flew past the windows. Stanford looked back. “Uh, guys?” Behind them, the Summerween Trickster reformed, this time into a blob with a yellow smiley face and four limbs. His clothes had been shredded away, bearing his lumpy dark whatever it was. The creature growled and launched himself from the ground. The kids screamed as he landed on the car.

          The mysterious man hissed in surprise and fish-tailed his truck to try and dislodge the monster. The Trickster cackled and turned around so that he feet were on the dented hood. A pole snapped and caught on the Trickster, effectively throwing him off. The truck spun and skidded as the man struggled to regain control over it.

           “BRAKES!” Fiddleford yelled, pointing at the Summerween Superstore they were about to hit. The man stomped on the breaks. The car slowed, but still burst through the store and knocked over an aisle of supplies before stopping. The airbags deployed. Though the kids might have gained new bruises from the seatbelts, none of them had flown through a window and they were all relatively alright.

          The man stumbled out of the car and helped the kids, shaky on their feet and in shock from the accident, out. The Summerween Trickster crawled out of the street and into the store. “Hide! All of you!” he hissed and ushered them into the aisles, out of sight. The Trickster tore off the truck door but, when he found its contents missing, stalked about the store.

          Stanley and Stanford, holding hands, pressed up against the back of one aisle. Stanley hissed, “He’s blocking our only exit!” They darted to the next aisle. The Trickster hesitated as it caught the movement, but continued to search. The two ducked into one of the spaces inside the isle. The man and Fiddleford were in the other space. “Please let him leave,” Stanford thought. The Trickster, growing annoyed, skulked about the place and snarled.

           “No one make a noise,” Stanley breathed.

           “Now you’re concerned about the monster,” Stanford couldn’t help but cut in snidely. “I thought all you cared about was Dan and those teens.”

           “You know that’s not true,” Stanley breathed. He stopped when the Summerween Trickster passed by them. “I just think we’re a bit old for this.”

           “That’s exactly why we need to go Trick-or-Treating, Stanley. We’re getting older. There aren’t that many Halloweens left.” He curled up and stared at his feet. “I didn’t know this was our last one.”

          The Trickster roared in frustration.

          Fiddleford whispered, “This isn’t working! He’s going to eat us! We need to get a disguise. Maybe we can fool him!”

          The Stan twins nodded. The man pointed to the costumes in the aisle. “Be quick!”

 

          Soon enough, the boys were dressed in two hooded skeleton costumes and a gorilla. The man refused to change- possibly because none of the costumes fit him, anyway. Now disguised, they group skittered through the store, often stopping in places and pretending to be signs, empty suits, or hiding in a cubby or piles of costumes.

          Finally, they made it to the end.

           “Okay, we get out and we run,” Stanley stated in a breath. “No looking back. No noise!”

           “I’ll guide you home,” the man stated and looked back at the frustrated monster. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you.”

          Stanford nodded. “Okay, we have everyone, right? Lee, Fiddle, you- wait. Gompers! Where’s–?”

          Baaaa! The baby goat stumbled over the candy and bounded over the scattered objects.

           “Oh no! Get him!” Stanley hissed.

          Stanford darted forward and picked up Gompers. “Hush! You’re okay!” Stanford whispered. Gompers fell asleep.

           “There you are!” the Trickster growled and ran for him.

           “GET OUT!” The man took Stanford by the collar and shoved him back. He whipped out a baseball bat. Stanford darted to the exit to meet Stanley and Fiddleford.

           “I have no quarrel with you,” the Trickster growled and smacked the man away with the back of his hand. He hit the flat, wood piece of a costume aisle and slumped to the ground.

           “Oh no. We can’t leave him!” Stanley raced over to the unconscious man. Stanford and Fiddleford followed in an instant.

          The Summerween Trickster cackled and swooped down on them. Stanley took out his sword and cut the monster’s wrist off. Bits of his ‘blood’ splattered onto his face. “Saltwater taffy? Ugh!”

           “What?” Fiddleford prompted, stumbling as he became distracted. The monster snatched Fiddleford and, without a second thought, swallowed the screaming boy in one gulp.

           “FIDDS!” The boys screamed. Gompers landed next to the unconscious man. The twins brandished their weapons. Stanford picked up a sword and shield a few feet away.

           “You let go of our friend!” Stanley demanded.

           “How about you meet him instead?” the Trickster growled and swiped at them. The two dodged the initial attack.

          Stanford cut into the monster’s leg. “Blood” spattered on his face. “Wait. You do taste like Saltwater Taffy.”

          The Trickster grabbed the boys and held them up. Their weapons clanged to the floor. “Do you still not recognize me?” The Summerween Trickster prompted. “Fine. Take a look at my face.” He took off his mask. “Take a good look.”

          Licorice framed what would be the creature’s mouth. Candy corn jutted out of his gums like teeth. Two pieces of round candy stood for his eyes. His entire body was made of–

           “Loser candy?” Stanley asked.

           “That’s right!” The Trickster hissed. “Did you ever stop and think about the candy at the bottom of the bag that no one likes? Every year the children of Gravity Falls throw away all of the ‘REJECTED’ candy into the dump. So, I seek revenge; revenge on the picky children who cast me aside. I'm made of every tossed piece of black licorice, every discarded bar of old chocolate with like that white, powder stuff on it. You know that stuff!”

           “I hate that stuff!” Stanley exclaimed.

           “I know,” the Trickster growled. “So, I’m going to eat you.” He hesitated at a barely audible, muffled noise. “Huh? What’s- AGK!” The monster convulsed and dropped the twins. He took a step back and landed flat on his back.

          Fiddleford erupted from his stomach and looked about. “Hey!”

           “Oh my gosh! Fiddleford!” the boys exclaimed, their voice pitched by fear and smiles wide in the exuberance of their reunited friend.

          Fiddleford looked down at the avalanche of candy that spread over the floor and the sprinkles and shards of hard candy that the monster coughed up. “Um… is this supposed to happen? Was I not supposed to eat him- you?”

           “You… like my candy?” The Trickster wheezed.

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah. Ya can’t be picky- take what you’re given with gratitude! It helps that candy tastes good.”

          Tears of candy corn rolled down the Trickster’s face and onto the floor. “All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to say that I was… good!” he cried. “I’m so happy…!”

          Gorny burst out of the monster’s side, hands in the air and smile big.

           “Hey, Gorny!” Fiddleford greeted.

           “I’ve been twaumatized!” Gorny announced.

          The monster stopped moving.

          Stanley and Stanford helped the two kids off the Summerween Trickster. Fiddleford took a few bits of candy as he went. Stanley looked to the man, still unconscious. “What should we do about him?”

           “Help him of course!” Fiddleford immediately ran to the man’s side. The Pines twins accompanied him.

          Below them, the man breathed normal, slow breaths. His goggles were slightly skewed. Otherwise, he looked perfectly normal- as far as they could tell.

          Fiddleford tapped his shoulder. “Hello? Sir, can you hear me?”

          Stanley knelt beside him. “…you know, I’ve never seen his face before.”

           “Now’s not the time,” Stanford disagreed.

           “When would the time be?” Stanley countered. “He’ll never show us, anyway. What if he’s not even a person?”

          Stanford sighed. “Even if he wasn’t a person, he saved our lives- twice. Let him have his privacy.”

           “Just his eyes,” Stanley compromised. “Maybe he’s bruised or cut or something.”

          Stanford sighed. “Yeah, whatever.”

          Stanley gently undid the strap of the man’s goggles and slipped them off. His skin was just about the same hue as slightly-tanned beige as the twins. No scars crossed his skin- none that they could see. However, a darker splotch that was the beginning of a birthmark started a few inches above his eyes. “Whoa. Wouldn’t a guy like him have wicked scars or something?”

           “Maybe he’s careful. Now come on! …what should we do, anyway?” Stanford asked.

          Fiddleford thought for a moment. “I don’t want ta leave him out here all alone. Let’s wait until he wakes up.”

          Stanley put the man’s goggles back on him. “Alright. I hope Grauntie Mabel isn’t concerned for us.”

          Stanford sat down, goat in his arms. “Yeah. We need a rest, anyway.”

          Fiddleford took a few more pieces of candy from the Trickster’s corpse. Gordy shambled off into the night.

          Eventually, the man groaned and put a hand to his head.

           “Hey!” The twins exclaimed. “He’s awake!” Fiddleford raced to their side.

          The man sat up and looked about them. “You… stayed?”

          Fiddleford nodded. “We wanted ta make sure you weren’t hurt.”

          Stanley smiled. “You saved our butts back there.”

          Gompers nibbled on the man’s wrist. He gently dislodged the goat. “You are very kind boys. …do you still have your bags?”

          The boys looked at each other and shook their heads. “No.”

          The man chuckled, “Then go get some!” He got up and grimaced, immediately putting a hand on his side. Stanley stood by his side and helped him stay up. “Thanks, kid.”

          Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford ran back into the aisles. Once they got their bags, they ran up to meet the man by the bed of his truck. The man pulled back the tarp on the back. “Now, what do you kids say?” he prompted and turned his head a bit to look at them from the corner of his eye.

           “Um… Trick-or-Treat?” Stanley prompted.

          The man pulled out a load of candy from the back of his truck and dumped it evenly into the bags of the three boys. He even put a few extra pieces in Gompers’ bags. When they looked inside, they found most of it was full candy bars. “Happy Summerween, kids.”

           “Oh my gosh!” Stanford breathed.

          Fiddleford smiled up at him. “Thank you!”

          The three hugged him. He laughed and patted their shoulders. “Aw you are good kids. You deserve it. Now come on. I should get you three home before your parents start to worry.” Stanley helped the man stay on his feet as they limped back to the Shack.

          Eventually, they made it back to the Mystery Shack. Along the way, they picked up their costumes and put them back on. The man’s limp had gotten a bit worse as they progressed. Stanford looked at the Shack and then at him. “Are you sure you want to leave? You can stay with us. Grauntie Mabel always make hot chocolate when something bad happens and we have ice packs and stuff. You should probably go to the hospital.”

          He waved them off. “Oh I’m good. Thank you very much for your care.”

           “…do you have kids?” Fiddleford asked.

          The man chuckled and nodded. “The best I could hope for. And I’m afraid I might have worried them being out so long! You kids go back to your great aunt and get some rest. Stay out of trouble, okay?” His voice became serious. “That monster could have seriously eaten you kids.”

           “You helped us!” Stanford pointed out. “And you helped us with Gideon! Are you a monster hunter?”

           “I… I make sure kids like you are safe,” the man stated. “The weirdness of this town can be very, very dangerous. Promise me that you kids will stay safe.”

           “We promise,” the kids answered at once.

           “Good. Good night, you three. Take a break! Eat some candy! The night’s not over!” With that, he limped down the road.

          The kids headed back to the Shack.

          Once they got inside, Stanford set Gompers down on his bed upstairs. Fiddleford entered the kitchen. “Ms. Pines?” Stanley went to the bathroom. “Hello?” Fiddleford called.

          Stanford walked back downstairs. “Is she not home?”

           “Do you think she went looking for us?” Fiddleford fretted.

           “I hope not,” Stanford muttered and looked at the door. “I’m sure she’s here. What if she’s just messing with the decorations?”

          Stanley walked back into the front room. “Yeah, or she went to the outhouse.”

           “Or she just went to get an ice pack.” The kids screamed as Grauntie Mabel, a bag on her lower back, appeared in the doorway. She was no longer in her costume. She wore her normal, glittery, pig night clothes. “Some night, huh?”

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah.”

           “You could say that,” Stanford agreed.

           “You’re back home late!” Grauntie Mabel pointed out. “It must be a story! Especially since your only witness came in ten minutes ago.”

          Stanford tipped his head. “Only witness?”

          Grauntie Mabel shambled into the living room and sat down. Dan sat at the table. He held his hand up. “’Sup.”

           “Dan!” Stanley gasped.

           “I didn’t see you at the party,” Dan commented as he sliced the top off a Jack-o-Melon. “Where were you?”

          Stanley put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I was Trick-or-Treating with my bro.”

           “Ah might as well. The party was lame,” Dan admitted. “Janice ate a lollipop stick-first and had to go home sick.”

           “Pfft.” Stanley put a hand over his own mouth.

           “Well…” Stanford looked down at his bag. “We got a lot of candy.”

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “Then what are you waiting for? Come here and watch some mindless TV! The lot of you!”

          Dan got up and they immediately traveled over to Grauntie Mabel and sat down on the floor at various points nearby. All three of them dumped their candy in the middle of the floor. Stanford scooped some into a bowl for Mabel, as he back hurt too much to bend down. She rubbed his head and immediately went to work on it.

           “And now back to the fear guide from Terror Town Street!” the TV announced as it flicked to a tame horror movie featuring an alien and a terrified woman.

           “You know, kids,” Grauntie Mabel started. “I realize that Summerween has a lot of candy in it. But I feel like the biggest part of Summerween is staying with the people you love… and pure evil!” She broke into maniacal laughter. Everyone else followed suit.

          Fiddleford piped up, “I ate a man alive tonight.”

          They went silent and stared at Fiddleford, who immediately dropped his gaze. Stanley punched him the shoulder. “You weird-o, Fidds! You’re cool. …gummy chair?”

           “Sure!”

 

VZG BLFI SVZIG LFG, XLLPRV NLMHGVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lookie here! We have _switch_ one of my favorite episodes, right _a_ next to "Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons"! I'm _with_ happy to have written this chapter. It was so _z_ fun to write! Also, guess who guest stars in this chapter~!


	13. Boss Stan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grauntie Mabel is the kind of person to give a "Buy One Get One Free" or even hand out a few items in her shop. Stanley and Stanford were raised by a father who runs a Pawn Shop and would never even give a "half off" deal. When Stanley challenges her authority and ability to be a boss, will he pull ahead to prove his point or find himself regretting his words?

          Grauntie Mabel, Waddles on her lap, sat in the living room seat with a box of _Chipackerz_. Today she wore a baby blue sweater covered in yellow fries with a hamburger on her chest. Grauntie Mabel would feed a cracker to Waddles and then take one for herself. Stanley sat on the T-Rex skull beside her and Stanford was in front of him with Gompers.

          The TV announced, “Ladies and gentlemen! We now return to _Cash Wheel!_ Sponsored by _Chipackerz,_ the chip flavored crackers!”

           “But they taste just like chips!” Grauntie Mabel held one up. Waddles took it from her.

          On the TV, three contestants stood in front of a very large wheel. The one in the middle grabbed one of the spokes jutting out of it and spun it. When it stopped, it landed on “Cash Shower”.

           “Congratulations!” the TV announcer crowed. “You’re going to take a–”

          The announcer, audience, and Stanley and Mabel yelled, “Cash Shower!” On the TV, dollar bills rained on the contestant in the middle. Laughing, he grabbed as much as possible. When the other two contestants tried taking some, he pushed them over and glared at them.

          Stanley chuckled. “I like that guy’s style.”

           “Ms. Pines!” Fiddleford called from the hallway. “A bus of tourists just drove in!”

           “A _bus?_ ” Grauntie Mabel jumped to her feet and raced to the window. Indeed, the Speedy Beaver parked just outside along with a few cars. “Wow! Okay, remember the game plan: Dan: Look alive! Lee and Ford: Make sure the items in the gift shop are noticeable. Fiddle: change the tour sign to five minutes and make sure everything is working!” With that, she ran off.

          Stanley stuck out his tongue, but followed Stanford nonetheless as they pulled things out of the back of the shelves or fluffed up the clothes racks. Dan hid his magazine under the counter and watched the gift shop. Fiddleford ran out of the house.

 

          Within minutes, Grauntie Mabel, dressed up in her blue suit and pink fez, led a crowd through the exhibits they had.

           “Now, ladies and gentlemen, you will find all types of wonders here. Be amazed at the only known photo of a horse riding another horse!” She pulled back a curtain to reveal a picture of a brown horse riding another horse like a cowboy. The crowd oohed and took pictures of it.

          She chuckled and led them to their next exhibit, which was behind a curtain. “Be astounded at the terrible pre-teen dragon boy!” She pulled back the curtains to reveal Stanley, who was in his dragon costume. He roared as loud as he could and bared his teeth, which nearly fell out when he did so. Fiddleford looked at him from behind the crowd, gave him a thumbs up, and walked off. The tourists cheered and took pictures of Stanley, who looked very happy to be not only be a dangerous looking monster, but in the center of attention.

          In the gift shop, Dan traded gift shop items for money. He smiled and gave a, “Come back soon!” or “Have a nice day!” to each costumer as they left. Stanford, after making sure everything on the shelves were nice and noticeable, washed off the mirrors and windows. He made sure to steer clear of the colorful stickers that Grauntie Mabel seemed to love so much.

          Eventually, Grauntie Mabel was done with her tour. She patrolled the shop, greeting each person as she went. In fact, she looked at a few bumper stickers in a basket next to the cash register and smiled. She held one up. “Behold! Mystery Shack bumper stickers! You can stick ’em on your bumper,” a sly smile crept up on her. “-or over your husband’s mouth. Am I right, ladies? She knows what I’m talking about!” She looked at a lady nearby.

           “Oh, you are bad! How much?” the woman prompted as she shuffled through her bag.

          Mabel handed it to her. “It’s on the house. That’s the Mabel difference! Thanks for visiting!”

          Stanley, still in costume, walked up to Grauntie Mabel. “What are you doin’ givin’ stuff away?”

           “Business!” she answered with a chuckle. “Why? What does it look like I’m doing?”

           “You’d make way more money if you didn’t give stuff away like that,” Stanley pointed out.

          Grauntie Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you think you can do better, hmm?”

           “Yeah. I watch my dad run the pawn shop all the time,” Stanley reminded her.

          At that moment, Stanford approached them. Mabel waved. “Hey, Fordsy! What’s up?”

           “Well, I heard you talking to Stanley,” Stanford stated. “And he’s right. I bet if we stopped using fake attractions,” he gestured to Stanley’s costume. “-and actually get some real ones, you could make money without lying to people! I see actual paranormal creatures all the time!”

           “Ford, look.” Grauntie Mabel gestured to the rest of the room. “Everyone knows gargoyles and mermaids don’t exist. This stuff- it’s part of gift shop lore! It’s part of what being a roadside attraction is all about.” She shrugged and stood up straight. “Now, we still have guests! Lee: change the sign out to fifteen minutes. Ford: tidy up the attractions hall.”

 

          Later that day, once the crowd had gone back to their cars and the bus had left, they were given a new job. Dan, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford stood up on the roof by the signs with buckets of clear, glittery paint and roller brushes. While Dan sat on his knees and painted to “SHACK” part of the sign, which was still missing the “S”, the kids worked on the “MYSTERY” portion. “Cover the whole sign!” Grauntie Mabel called. “Everyone loves glitter! It attracts tourists! Oh, and also large birds. So, watch out for that.”

          Stanford yelled in surprise as a large bird swooped down on him. Stanley warded it away with a paintbrush roller. Grauntie Mabel chuckled and about continued when her phone rang. She checked the number. “Whoops! Business call. You kids have fun! Keep your balance!” She put the phone to her ear and ran inside.

          Stanford brushed his hair back and looked around before going back to painting the sign.

          Stanley stuck out his tongue and continued painting.

           “Is it just me,” Stanley started, “Or is Grauntie Mabel a _really_ annoying boss?”

           “…sometimes.” Dan shrugged. “But she’s better than a lot of employers.”

           “We’re painting glitter on a sign on the roof, Dan,” Stanley pointed out.

          Stanford leveled his hand and waved it. “Well, constantly denying that magic exists and making fake exhibits can be really annoying. I still love her, though.”

           “Well, duh,” Stanley agreed. “Still, I bet she could do better.”

           “Oh, what? Like Dad?”

           “Probably. I mean, he does it on his own and he still makes good,” Stanley pointed out. “And he has some real stuff, remember?”

          Stanford looked at the space where the “S” was missing in “SHACK”. “I mean, sometimes.”

          Stanley shrugged. “Look, all I’m saying is that if she didn’t give stuff away, and maybe made things more believable, she’d be making a better wage!”

          Fiddleford finished painting the “R” in “MYSTERY”. “I don’t know. Ms. Pines tries her darndest and is real good at her job.”

          Stanford smirked. “If you’re so confident, Stanley, then why don’t you take it up with her and see what she says?”

          Stanley finished off the second “Y” in “MYSTERY”. “Maybe I will.”

 

          Grauntie Mabel stretched one of her arms and leaned against the wall next to the “EMPLOYEES ONLY” door. She clutched a new stack of money in her hands. As soon as she saw Stanley approach, she waved. “Hey, there, Lee! Ooooh, what’s that look about?” Stanley stopped before her. He attempted to muffle the cocky smirk that made its way to his face, but it was no use. Grauntie Mabel didn’t look up. However, she could see Dan going back to his job as the cashier and Stanford and Fiddleford leaving into the living room.

           “Hello, Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley announced. “I have a proposition for you!”

           “Oh? If you’re talking about the paint, I made that very well.” Mabel waved her hand and walked off.

          Stanley followed close to heel. “Yeah! Well, uh, it’s not about that. I think it’s about you being boss.”

           “Oh-ho! Look at you!” she chuckled and walked into her office. Calendars, charts, beanie bags, inspirational posters, large stuffed animals, and posters of kittens and pigs decorated the place. The brilliant shades of pink ranging from hot pink to cream caused him to squint. “Let me guess, you watch you dad at his pawn shop and suddenly you know more than I?”

           “Well, uh…” Stanley hesitated. “No? Er- yes?”

           “Look, kid,” Mabel stated as she sat down. “Being a boss isn’t an easy and simple job. It’s about playing nice but being smart where and when you need to be. Also: making sure you keep the bills paid.” She chuckled at the last point, as if making a joke, and put the money in a pig-themed box.

           “No way!” Stanley crossed his arms. “I bet you’d make way more money being firm then letting people walk all over you all the time!”

          Mabel raised an eyebrow at him. “Do I smell someone who thinks they know better than I do? You think you can wear this hat better than I, eh?”

           “Well, yeah!” Stanley agreed. “’Cause I don’t give stuff away.”

          Mabel laughed. “Lee, I’d make more money on _vacation_ then you would running this place!”

           “Oh yeah? Then why don’t you take a vacation?” Stanley countered.

           “Hmm… interesting.” Mabel leaned back and narrowed her eyes in thought. She clicked her tongue and shrugged. “You know what? I’m good for a wager! How about this: You run the Shack, I’ll go on vacation for three days- seventy-two hours.” She took an alarm next to her and clicked in seventy-two hours. “If you make more money than me, I guess you’re right about how I run my business.” Grauntie Mabel shrugged and smirked. “But if you lose, you have to wear an apologize sweater made by me: Mabel! Along with an apology song to make it better.”

           “And if _I_ win,” Stanley countered, “I get to run the Shack for the rest of the summer! And, uh, _you_ have to wear the apology sweater!”

           “Whoa-ho! You got yourself a deal, mister!” Mabel set a hand on the desk.

          Stanley set his hand on the desk. “No, you’ve got _yourself_ a deal!”

           “Deal!”

           “Deal!”

          Stanley slammed his fist on the desk. “Deal!”

          Mabel slammed her fist on the desk. “Deal!”

           “Deal!” Stanley announced one last time.

          Mabel stuck a purple heart sticker on his nose. “Deal.”

 

          Mabel, wearing a sweater covered in Hawaiian flowers, set two suitcases in the trunk of the car and shut it. Stanley, holding a large jar, stood on the porch. “See you in seventy-two hours! Good luck! Oh, and don’t forget to feed Waddles on time, ’kay Champ?” With that, she threw her pink, shooting star fez at him and was in her baby blue, flower-decorated car. Stanley put on the cap and watched her go.

          Stanford walked up to him. “Uh, Stanley? I wasn’t being serious.”

           “I know.” Stanley hugged the jar close to his chest.

           “And you do remember her being a professional saleswoman and scam artist, right?”

          Stanley scoffed. “I’m sure that making more money than Mabel will be a _cinch!_ Profit, here we come!” He held out the jar.

          Stanford crossed his arms. “Well, I guess we shouldn’t be _too_ worried? I mean, how much could she make on vacation?”

 

          Mabel trapezed into a brightly lit studio decorated heavily by “CASH WHEEL” items, advertisements, and props. A man writing on a clipboard stopped his work and looked up. Mabel, hands on her hips and chest puffed out, announced, “I am here to take the cash from this wheel!”

 

          Stanley sat at the desk of Mabel’s office. The walls were temporarily covered by curtains to make the place a bit darker and not hurt his eyes. Dressed up in a light blue suit, he sat with the back of his plushy wheelie chair facing the door. A clock stating “49:01” in bold green letters sat facing them.

          Fiddleford opened the door first and let Stanford and Dan in. “You wanted to see us, Ms. Pines?” He glanced about at the darker walls. Dan raised an eyebrow at the new décor choice, which was really nothing at all. Stanford bit back a sigh.

          Stanley turned around with a whoosh and threw his arms up. “Guess what?”

          Fiddleford jumped. “Wh-what? What happened?”

           “The Mystery Shack is temporarily under new management.” Stanley put a hand to his chest. “By yours truly.”

          Fiddleford tipped his head. “What do you mean by that?”

          Dan glanced at the walls. “So _that’s_ why Mabel left.”

          Stanley nodded his head. “Yep! For the next-” Stanley glanced at the timer and then back at them. “Forty-nine hours, there are going to be a few changes around here.” He hopped off the chair, grabbed the timer, and strode out the door. “Walk with me.”

          Fiddleford and Dan looked at Stanford. Stanford shrugged.

          Stanley walked into the gift shop and step down the table on the counter. “Now, for one: we aren’t going to be giving out stuff for free. Anything at a lower price is because it’s being bought with something else. And the no refund policy starts today! Ford! I need you to go into those woods and I don’t want you coming back until you grab us a real amazing attraction!”

          Stanford’s eyes lit up. He clutched Journal Three in his hands. “Ha-ha! Yes! This’ll show Mabel.” Stanford put the journal back and ran into his room. A few moments later, he was running out the door, a backpack over his shoulders and a crossbow in his hand.

          Dan watched him go. “You sure you want him out on his own?”

          Stanly waved his hand. “Please. He’ll be just fine. We do this stuff all the time!” He glanced back at the door. His grin only got wider. “Hehe… Now, Fidds and Dan! I need you two to help put up these labels on top of the old ones. They’re price tags.” He held up two baskets with tags in it. Fiddleford and Dan took one basket each. “Cool! I’m going to go feed Waddles. The store opens in a few minutes!” With that, he ran off.

          He couldn’t hear Dan mutter to Fiddleford, “I think this was a bad idea.”

          Fiddleford nodded.

 

          A banner boldly stating, “UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT” hung over the front door. Stanley stood outside the exhibit with his jar. As they passed, people put money in the jar. He looked at it. It was now an eighth of the way full. When he ran off the porch, he found Stanford with a giant bag attached to his car. It moved and squirmed as a beast larger than the cart moved about inside. Though, from its slow movements, Stanley could swear it was either sleepy, slowed, or drugged.

          Stanford, bag over his shoulder and crossbow in the cart, waved to the bag. “Behold! I caught it in the forest. Cool, right?”

           “Aw, yeah! Put it inside!” Stanley commanded.

          Stanford got back in the cart and dragged it around to the back.

 

          Inside the Shack, Stanford stood in front of a giant cage covered by a blanket. A gremloblin, now fully out of its drug-induced sleep, looked about with bright red eyes. He snarled at Stanford. However, the boy was too far away from him. His meaty hands couldn’t fit through the bars, anyway.

          Stanford, hands behind his back, looked at the rest of the room, where people looked over dozens of fake exhibits. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” Stanford cried. A few people turned their attention on him. A couple walked over to him. “My name is Stanford and, unlike my aunt, I have a real creature here! It nearly killed me getting him into this cage. Behold! Part gremlin, part goblin, the Gremloblin!” Stanford tore the blanket off the cage. The Gremloblin snarled and shook the bars of its cage. It hacked up a human skeleton arm.

          The man in front of it commented, “Neat!”

          The woman next to him clicked her tongue. “It’s fake, honey. You can see the strings.”

           “What? No!” Stanford shook his head. “It’s real! That’s just body hair.”

          The woman turned away from him to look at a human-esc creature with a rabbit head and tail, fur, deer hooves and antlers, and a six pack. “Oh, look at this, dear. The Six-Pack-O’-Lope!”

          The man laughed. “Wordplay!” His camera flashed as he took a picture of it.

          Stanford shook his head. “No, everything else here is fake.” He gestured to bring them back to the cage. “This is a real paranormal creature.” He gave them a tentative smile. “You know, if you look into his eyes, you’ll see your worst nightmare!”

          The couple, intrigued but skeptical, looked into the gremloblin’s eyes. The creature’s eyes turned a bright sunny yellow and glowed. The couple’s eyes followed suit and glowed.

 

          Stanford, hands behind his back, watched as the couple were carried into an ambulance and driven away. He sighed and walked inside. There weren’t too many people there. Although many took their things to the cash register, a few didn’t even bother and left.

           “Hey, Stanley,” Stanford greeted with a sigh. Stanley turned around. He had just finished putting money into the cash register. “I just made two people go insane. You?”

           “Tired,” Stanley groaned. “Ugh! I asked Dan to help Fiddleford with that pipe that keeps leaking. I don’t know why they aren’t back yet.”

          Stanford looked about. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Stanley. I mean–”

          Stanford was cut off by a great roar. The Gremloblin burst through the wall, shrieking his fury. People evacuated immediately. The Stan twins ducked behind the counter.

           “What the heck?!” Stanford winced as the creature tore apart a shirt. “I locked him in that cage! He wasn’t supposed to get out!”

          Stanley looked back at the creature. “You know, he looks more strong awake than he did asleep.”

           “Stanley.” Stanford turned to him. “What did you do?”

           “Okay, I _might’ve_ used a cheaper cage than you asked for.” Stanley shrugged.

           “ _What?_ This is one of the most dangerous- the author had trouble fighting him!” Stanford snapped. “Seriously?! …where’d you say Fidds and Dan were?”

           “Fixing that pipe in the exhibit area,” Stanley answered. The two of them froze as the words processed in their minds. “With the gremloblin.”

           “ _Free_ gremloblin,” Stanford agreed.

           “We have to get over there!”

           “How?!”

          Stanley looked over at the creature. He had moved further into the gift shop and was now tearing apart a box with plastic eyeballs in it. A hole in the wall was beside the door to the exhibit. “Okay, we make a break for it.”

           “What? What if he sees us?” Stanford hissed.

           “Then he’ll follow us, probably. Come on!” Stanley darted out from behind the cash register and into the exhibit room. Stanford followed close to heel. “Okay, Stanford: look for Dan and Fiddleford! I’ll make sure he doesn’t come back here!”

          Stanford nodded and raced into the exhibit. A few things were broken, though the most damage was in the completely torn apart cage and the hole in the wall. There were probably too few people here to make it worth it’s while.

          Stanford crept about the place, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. “Guys?” Stanford hissed. “Guys, where are you?”

          Dan’s head popped out of a turned over cabinet in the opposite corner. He looked at the hole and put a finger to his lips.

          Stanford ran to his side and crouched down. Currently, Fiddleford was curled up in a shaking ball beside Dan, whose body cast a shadow over him and one arm held him. “What happened?”

          Dan shook his head. “I don’t know! One moment, I was holding up this pipe so that Fiddleford could fix it. The next, we heard this loud cracking noise and turned to see the gromloblin had broken through the cage! What happened?”

          Stanford shrugged. “I don’t know! All I know is he came crashing through the wall and scared everyone off! Stanley’s by the broken wall and watching the gremloblin. We wanted to make sure you guys were safe and we knew where you were before we dealt with it.”

           “Poorly,” Dan stated. “Once you chase that thing out of here, tell Stanley we’re taking the day off.”

          Stanford set a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. Fiddleford flinched and slipped out of his grasp. “I will, definitely. Now just stay hidden until I come back, okay?” Stanford turned and ran back to his brother as quietly as he could.

          Stanley looked at the TV near them, which miraculously wasn’t broken. It showed Cash Wheel and panned to Rich. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Mabel Pines is poised to become our grand champion! Anything to say to your fans out there?”

          Mabel grinned ear to ear and held up a bright pink sweater stating “I’m Stan and I was Wrong” on it. “See you tomorrow, Lee!”

          The gremloblin chucked a calendar at them, forcing them to hide in the living room. Stanley hissed, “What are we supposed to do?”

          Stanford took out his journal. “Uh… got it! When fighting a gremloblin, use water…” Stanley immediately got a cup of water and splashed it in the creature’s face. Stanford turned the page. “…only as a last resort as water will make him much, much scarier! AH! Who writes sentences like that?!”

          The gremloblin snarled and fell onto all fours. Giant spines burst through its back like a dragon’s spikes. Wings erupted from its shoulders. A cuckoo clock chirped somewhere. It spun around and breathed fire to destroy it. Stanley hid next to Stanford.

          Stanford took a deep breath. “Okay. He’s got to leave eventually.”

 

          Sometime later, the Gremloblin had calmed down. It pressed a button under a bust of a salmon wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses on the wall behind the cash register. The fish’s head turned to it. “I’m the Singin’ Salmon spendin’ all day jamming.” Its head returned to its original position. The Gremloblin pressed the button again, which caused it to sing again. Once the salmon stopped singing, it would press the button again to make it continue.

           “Ugh!” Stanley groaned. “Why doesn’t he just _leave?_ ” The gremloblin sniffed and growled. He picked up the money jar. “Oh no! Our profits!” Stanley cried and ran into the next room.

           “STANLEY!” Stanford ran into the gift shop.

          Immediately, the gremloblin dropped the jar partially full of money and plucked Stanley off the ground. Stanley immediately started struggling. Stanford yelled, “Don’t look into his evil eye! You’ll see your worst nightmare!”

          Stanley growled and glared at the Gremloblin. “I wish we had an evil eye to show him!” The gremloblin’s eyes glowed yellow. “Oh no!”

          Stanford looked around. “That’s it!” he hissed and pulled out a mirror from behind the counter. “HEY MONSTER!” The gremloblin looked at him, his eyes still glowing.

          Stanford, careful not to look the creature in the eyes, held up a mirror. It stared into its own reflection. Within seconds, he dropped Stanley. The creature rubbed his eyes and, shrieking, burst through the wall and out of the store. He flew into the air and out over the woods, breaking the giant totem pole in the process. Stanford sighed, “Oh good, he’s gone.”

           “Yep! He didn’t really do _too_ much damage, right?” Stanley offered with a nervous chuckle and looked back at the clock on the counter. “7:08” blazed in bright green letters. “Oh no! Only seven hours!”

          Stanford sighed. “Okay, let me go let Dan and Fiddleford out. Oh, they said they’re leaving.”

           “What? They can’t leave now!” Stanley complained.

          Stanford scoffed, “After all this? I’d leave, too!” He ran back to the fallen desk. Dan was sitting up, now. Fiddleford leaned on him, mostly asleep. “Okay. The gremloblin’s gone. He didn’t attack you or anything right?”

          Dan shook his head. “Only terrorized us. Good luck cleaning this up.” Dan got up and helped Fiddleford to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

          Stanford ran back to the gift shop. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

          Stanley took a deep breath. “Okay! So, we’ve got seven hours to turn this place around or I’m wearing that loser sweater! You, me, and the open world, Stanford! Go call a construction crew! We need these walls repaired!”

          Stanford snatched the phonebook from under the counter and picked up the phone beside the register.

           “Okay. Time to clean this mess up.” Stanley picked up a himself and hesitated as he heard a shaky breath behind him. Stanley turned to see Fiddleford, alone, standing behind him.

           “Hey, Stanley.”

           “Hey, Fidds. What’s up? I thought you two were leavin’,” Stanley pointed out.

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, we were. But Ah was thinkin’… Ah can’t leave ya two alone. So, Ah’ll help anyway Ah can. D-Dan’s still leavin’.”

           “Thanks, Fidds! Help me pick up this place, would you?” Stanley righted a box and picked up some of the merchandise that fell out of it. Fiddleford went to work fixing up the shelves. As a few of them were broken, he had to repair them.

 

 

          At the Shack, the walls had been repaired and cleaned up, for the most part. Fiddleford was still applying the finishing touches. A crane picked up the top of the totem pole and replaced it. A tour bus drove up to the front lawn. “Ford!” Stanley called from the front yard.

          Stanford ran up to him. “Yeah?”

           “We’ve got tourists!”

          Stanford glanced back. “But real magic freaks people out? What do I show them?”

           “I dunno. Eh… there’s still plenty of stuff, there.” Stanley ran into the gift shop. Stanford sighed and ran into the house to change into a spiffy outfit.

 

          Stanford boldly led people through the recently repaired shop. “And we have here–” He gestured to the stage where Stanley had been. Gompers sat on Waddle’s back. A furry blanket with a hole at the top for Gomper’s head fitted over them to make it look like they were the same thing. “–the terrible, uh, goat-pig!”

          The crowd gasped as they looked over the “mythical creature”.

          Stanford grinned and gestured to a sign reading “$10.00”. “Take your picture with him for ten dollars!” The crowd immediately took out their money.

 

          Inside, Stanley leaned on the cash counter. The “No Refund” sign had been thrown out. He held up a basket of Mabel’s giant home-made Mystery Shack stickers. “Hey, everyone! My name is Stan from the Mystery Shack!” A few people turned their attention to him as he held up the stickers. “Are you tired of driving around with a car that doesn’t have any decorations, but you don’t want to get a special paint job? Then you need these: Mabel’s Car Stickers!” He held up one of them, which was a plain question mark with a heart instead of a dot. “Be the center of attention as you get these extremely rare stickers you will not find any place else! For just fi- a dollar, you could spruce up their car! Anyone who gets the special Mystery Shack gift box gets one for free!”

          Quite a few people came to inspect the stickers. A few people even grabbed the red boxes with black question marks on them. Stanley rang up the items at the cash register.

          As soon as the crowd left, Stanford strolled up to him. Fiddleford, a smile on his face as he’d just completely fixed and reinforced the shelves, approached him, too. Stanford prompted, “So? How did we do?”

           “We filled the whole jar!” Stanley held up the jar stuffed with money. The kids cheered.

 

          The money was scattered in neat piles over the desk. Some had more, some had less. Stanford typed a few numbers into a calculator that looked like a type writer, which printed paper as he typed. “Minus the money to replace all the furniture, and the supplies to fix the Shack… that leaves us with…”

          Stanley held up the jar, which contained a lonely dollar. “One dollar,” he sighed.

          The door opened. Mabel, proud as ever, held up the timer she’d brought with her. It buzzed as it struck zero. “Tick-tock! Times up, kiddos!”

          Stanley gasped. “Oh no.”

          Mabel strolled in and set the clock down. “So! How’d you kids do? Wait, where’s Dan?”

          Stanley put a hand to the back of his neck. “That’s… a long story. So, how much did you beat us by?”

          Mabel looked down at her nails. “I won six hundred thousand dollars.” They gasped.

 

          Lights blazed and people cheered as Grauntie Mabel had the highest amount of money of everyone- three hundred thousand dollars.

          Rich stated, “For a chance to double your cash or lose it all, what is the six-letter word you use to ask for something politely? For example: ‘May I _blank_ have that?”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Thanks for the win, Rich! Easy: it’s ‘please’.” The score beneath her now red “600,000”.

          Rich threw one arm in the air in a grand gesture as the empty spaces on the board filled with the word “PLEASE”. “Congratulations! You are our _biiiiig_ winner!”

 

          Grauntie Mabel looked at her hand. “So. How much did you make?”

          Stanley showed her the jar. “One dollar.”

          Stanford watched her. Was she going to go easy on him? Hopefully? “Look, Grauntie Mabel, I didn’t help him as much as I should have, it’s my fault. I mean, if I’d helped out more, or I just told him not to do it, we’d have made much more and we wouldn’t have even gotten into trouble.”

          Grauntie Mabel looked at him in surprise. “Whoa, Fordsy! Calm down. I’m not going to bite him! Everyone has to learn their lesson sometime. It’s better to learn it in a place where you’re safe rather than out in the real world where you could do some real damage. Now, how’s about we get to work and sing a song?”

           “Sing a song?” Stanford echoed.

          Stanley’s eyes went round. “Wh-what? No, I don’t remember–”

           “I have it in my notes.” Grauntie Mabel showed him a paper with their bet on it. “If Stanley loses, he gets to wear a special apology sweater and sing a song written by me, Mabel.”

          Stanford chuckled. “I’m going to go get the camera!”

           “Okay, okay. Let me just–!” Stanley interrupted himself by running off.

           “Stanley!” Grauntie Mabel called after him.

 

          Dan had come back and held the camera on a tripod. Fiddleford held up a mic. Grauntie Mabel sat in a chair, watching Stanley. Stanford sat down next to Mabel, Gompers in his lap. Stanley wore a bright pink sweater. The words “I’m Stan and I Was Wrong” were stitched in the front. The letters were a deep red.

          Stanley tried, “Look I’m not gunna–”

          Dan gave the thumbs up. Grauntie Mabel called, “Okay, do it!”

          Stanley bit his tongue and sang, “ _I’m Stan and I was wrong._

          _“I’m singing the Stan Wrong Song_

          _“I shouldn’t have taken that chance,_

          _“Now here’s my remorseful dance.”_

           “Do the kicks!” Grauntie Mabel encouraged. As Stanley kicked each leg in his dance, Grauntie Mabel crowed, “Jazzier!”

           “Is he good?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. Waddles, on the ground next to her, oinked. “That’s what I was thinking! Take thirty!”

 

YV BLFI LD **M** YLHH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated greatly on who _switch_ would win. I decided that _a _Stanley needed to be taken down a peg. That and _with_ Stanley singing the "Stan Wrong Song" is _z_ too adorable.__


	14. Bottomless Pit!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grauntie Mabel has discovered a bottomless pit that resides not too far from the Shack. After Stanford challenges the credibility of her statement, they soon come to discover just how bottomless it is.

          Over the cheery pine forest valley that housed the small town of Gravity Falls, the sun was at its highest. Its rays cast light, heat, and life to the land below. Dark clouds played on the horizon. The Mystery Shack’s noise level lowered as Grauntie Mabel, now wearing a baby blue sweater with a wolf howling over a full moon, ran to the golf cart. “Field trip!” she called over her shoulder as she ran. “Come on!”

          Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford joined her in the golf cart. “Grauntie Mabel?” Stanford prompted.

          “Yeah, Ford?” The golf cart didn’t go far before stopping by a large, perfectly circle hole fifteen feet in diameter. A sign that stated: “BOTTOMLESS PIT” was staked onto the side.

          “What are we doing?”

          “Going to the Bottomless Pit, of course!” Grauntie Mabel ran around to the sign. “Behold! There are many pits in the world, but none more bottomless than the Bottomless Pit! Which, as you can see here, is totally bottomless.”

          The kids peered over the lip of the edge. Stanford piped up, “You know, by its very definition, that’s impossible.”

          “Details.” Grauntie Mabel waved her hand. “Now, we’re gathered here today to throw away things we don’t need. For example…” She pulled out a cluster of letters and heart-shaped papers. She threw them as hard as she could down. “Die creepy love letters from Gideon!” It disappeared into the black. “See? Gone forever. You’ll literally never see it again, ever. Anything that falls down never comes back up.”

          Fiddleford took a step back. “Then why are we standin’ so close to it?”

          Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry. You won’t fall in. Whatcha got there, Lee?”

          Stanley waddled to the Bottomless Pit. In his arms was a box. “Oh, just random junk Little Bud kept sending me.” He let go of it. The box tumbled down into the pit. “Bye-bye!”

          “The Gleefuls are a clingy family,” Grauntie Mabel noted. Stanford thought for a moment and then dragged a purple box to the pit, which fell out of sight almost immediately.

          Fiddleford looked about and then chucked a wadded up paper into the Pit. He looked at them and shrugged. “Do you think we should attach something to a rope and throw it down? Like a flashlight?”

          Stanford looked over the edge. “Hmm… that sounds like a good idea.”

          A large grin spread across Stanley’s features. “So, I guess you’d like to _get to the bottom_ of this mystery?”

          Stanford groaned. “Stanley!”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled and then stepped forward to grab her pig. “Uh-oh! I told you not to come here, Waddles. You might fall in!” Waddles oinked and backed off when commanded to do so.

          Gompers bleated and stood by Stanford’s ankle. Stanford rubbed his head. “You’re okay, Gompers.”

          The wind picked up. Leaves rolled over the ground and whisked away in the water-laden wind. Grauntie Mabel stood up. “Well, looks like a storm is rolling in.”

          “A bad one!” Stanford agreed as he looked up at the dark mass. “Come on! Let’s get back to the Shack!”

          No sooner had he said that, then a bolt of lightning flashed in the distant clouds. Thunder rumbled overhead. Fiddleford jumped and then screamed as one foot slipped off the edge. “OHMYGOSHHELP!”

          Stanford grabbed onto one of his arms and then hissed in surprise as Fiddleford lost his balance completely and dragged Stanford down with him. Stanley wrapped his arms around Stanford’s chest, grabbed his own wrists to make sure Stanford couldn’t slip out of his grasp, and dug both heels into the ground to anchor them. “Okay, guys,” Stanley wheezed. “Hurry up and grab a foothold!”

          Grauntie Mabel ran to their side and grabbed Fiddleford’s other hand. “Come on, sweetie, don’t look do- oh no! Waddles, don’t–”

          Waddles grabbed ahold of her ankle and attempted to drag her back. She brought her foot back in an attempt to dislodge him. That only made her lose her grip and fall. Fiddleford barked in pain as she still held onto his wrist and took him down with her. The ground under Stanley’s heels was uprooted as, though he had a very strong base, the weight was too great. The four of them plummeted into the Bottomless Pit.

          The four screamed as they fell deeper and deeper into the dark, bottomless pit. The light dwindled more and more the farther they fell.

          Eventually, the four, blind in the dark, stopped screaming. “So…” Stanford started. “Does anyone know where we are?”

          “Hmmm…” Stanley looked around. “I’m going to say… The Bottomless Pit!”

          “Har, har.”

          Fiddleford piped up, “Actually, Lee, your sarcasm is technically true. I wish we could see through this dark…”

          Grauntie Mabel cracked a green glow light. “There we are! Heeey! You kids!” She wrapped the loop on the glow stick around her wrist. When she let go, it flipped up as if falling upwards. She giggled and watched it waver a bit as they fell.

          Stanford looked about the black with wide eyes. “We’re going to land on something eventually. It could be any second now!” They tensed as they prepared to land. Nothing happened.

          Stanley looked about. “Well, looks like we’re going to be here a while. So, who wants to tell a story?”

          Grauntie Mabel gasped, “Ooooh! Come on, you three have to have some good stories.”

          Stanley held out his hand. “I think I have one.”

          Grauntie Mabel untied the glow stick from her wrist and gave it to him.

          He cleared his throat and held the light close so that it threw the long shadows on his face to make him look creepier, if that was possible. “I have a story I’d like to call…  _Monster Water!_ ”

 

          Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford walked through an old forest trail. Fiddleford glanced about, his muscles tense in nervousness. Stanford stared down at a book. Stanley, hands in his pockets, strolled beside them without a care in the world.

          Stanley glanced at his brother. “What kinda monster are we goin’ to find this time?”

          “Maybe a werewolf,” Stanford answered. “Or a fairy!”

          “I hope we don’t find a werewolf,” Fiddleford denied. “I’d rather not be eaten.”

          “Pff,” Stanley waved his hand. “We won’t get _eaten._ Oh! What’s that?” A stream flowed passed them. Its water sparkled in the sunlight. When they got closer, they found that it was completely clear. No algae clung to the rocks and no fish swam about.

          Stanford looked down at the stream. “It’s just a stream, Stanley.”

          Fiddleford walked to its edge. “But it’s clear. This time a’ year, streams are real dry and clogged.”

          “Weird.” Stanford looked over the rocks. “The rocks are pretty smooth, though. What if it isn’t water?”

          “It’s water.” Stanley knelt by the stream and stuck his hand in it. “Yep. Water. Really cold water.”

          “Stanley! What are doing?” Stanford hissed. “We just said it might not be water!”

          Stanley stood up and snickered. “Calm down! Look, I’m not burned or anythin’.”

          He flicked his hand at Stanford, causing him to wipe it off his face. “Ugh! Stop that!”

          “What am I doing?” Stanley defended himself. “I mean, if it isn’t water, what if we get freaky cool magical powers?”

          “Or what if we get poisoned?” Stanford countered.

          “Fidds, do you think we’ll get poisoned?” Stanley prompted.

          Fiddleford tensed as he was now the focus of the argument. “Er- maybe. Ah don’t know. Ah never saw a stream ’round here before. But Ah’ve never been this deep in the wood.”

          “See?” Stanley patted Fiddleford’s shoulder. Water from Stanley’s hand leaked into his clothes. “Fidds agrees with me. I’m sure it’s perfectly fine.”

          Stanford grumbled as he dried his face off, “Yeah, let’s hope not. Since now all three of us have water on us.”

 

          The next morning, Stanley woke up on his belly. He could feel his hand covered by a thin sheet. He yawned and coughed as fluff got into his mouth. Stanley blinked open his blurry eyes and raised his head. The pillow he’d been sleeping on was torn open as if a large cat had attacked it. “What the heck?” Stanley sat up and then hesitated. He could feel something in his lower spine and between his feet. His blanket draped above him. Stanley looked up. The blanket wasn’t over his head and shoulders. His blanket was over a set of large, stony wings. He spun around and looked back. Giant wings tore through his red-and-white striped shirt. A long, stony tail with small bumps for spikes slithered onto the bed. His fingers were now tipped with claws.

          Stanford woke up with a start as Stanley screamed. “Wh- what? Stanley, what’s wrong?” Stanford raised his head and squinted his eyes.

          “Oh my gosh, Ford, I’m a dragon!” Stanley threw his arms up and caused the blanket to fall off him. Normally, being a dragon would be cool. But right now? It was… not.

          “What?” Stanford grabbed at his glasses. The glasses fell to the floor. When he reached down to grab them, he didn’t see fingers. He saw his arm, which was now covered in sandy gold fur with slightly darker spots, and a paw with six toes. He screamed and sat up. Red, blue, and gold wings sprinkled with baby feathers sprouted from his back. Stanford was now a lion with colorful wings and a human head with lion ears.

          Stanley jumped down and then wobbled on his feet. Wow he was heavy. He grabbed Stanford’s glasses and put them on his brother. “Geez, we’re animals!”

          The door opened. Grauntie Mabel, eyes wide in shock and concern, looked over the two boys. “What… what happened?”

          Stanley shrugged. “I don’t know!”

          “It was probably that water you splashed us with,” Stanford growled. His tail flicked back and forth.

          “Water?” Grauntie Mabel echoed. “What water?”

          “We found a stream,” Stanley explained. “I guess it was magic water.”

          “It _looked_ magic, Stanley. Why did you even touch it?”

          “I don’t know!” Stanley huffed. “I thought it was a good idea at the time. Wait, didn’t Fiddleford touch the water, too?”

          “No, you splashed him,” Stanford countered and then hesitated. “Oh no! What if- well, since it went through his clothes, maybe nothing happened?”

          “Okay, kids, what’s going on?” Grauntie Mabel looked at her two boys, who were now mythical creatures. “Why are you a cat and a dragon?”

          Stanford jumped off the bed and landed on all four paws. His jacket, which had holes in it from his wings, fluttered over his wrists and back legs. “Well, we came across this magical water stream when we were out monster hunting.”

          “I dipped my hand in it,” Stanley commented. “And then Stanford got mad so I splashed him. I also put my hand on Fidds’ shoulder. What would he turn into, do you think? A unicorn?”

          “Why would he be a unicorn?” Stanford huffed. “We should still find him, make sure he’s alright.”

          Grauntie Mabel looked down at the two boys. “Okay. Well… you’re animals now. Why don’t you just wait here and I can check on F–”

          “Ms. Pines?” Fiddleford called. “A-Ah’m sorry for the intrusion, but Ah’d like ta see Lee and Ford.”

          Grauntie Mabel took a deep breath. “You two wait here.” She ran out the door. A few seconds later, she brought Fiddleford up to their room.

          As soon as he saw them, his eyes went round. “Oh my gosh,” he wheezed.

          “So, it didn’t do anything to you?” Stanley prompted.

          “Not exactly,” Fiddleford stated and rocked on his heels.

          “What happened?” Stanford asked.

          Fiddleford held out a hand and concentrated on it. “A-Ah don’t know what this is.” His hand burst into golden flames. “This isn’t supposed to be possible!”

          “Whoa!” Stanley gasped. “You’re a wizard! That’s so cool! I’m a dragon!”

          Fiddleford closed his hand and quenched the flames. “A dragon? You, ah, look like a gargoyle. Those stone monsters they put up on buildin’s, ya know. And a sphynx.”

          “A gargoyle? Hmm… so I can’t breath fire. Oh! Do you want to go play with our new powers?”

          Fiddleford started, “Look, Ah don’t think that’s a good idea…”

          “Yeah, your right. You want to drink that magic water to see if it turns us back?” Stanley prompted.

          “No,” Stanford countered. “But we are going to have to find some way to reverse this…”

          “Yeah, we should. Come on, Fidds! Let’s go set something on fire!” Stanley announced

 

          Stanley grinned. “And then we accidently set a car on fire. I think we found the cure after that, though, but boiling the water.”

          Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms. “Magic water that turns people into monsters?”

          “You’d be a mermaid,” Stanley agreed.

          “Hmm… you know, I do like the sound of that.” Grauntie Mabel nodded.

          “It does sound like you,” Stanford agreed.

          Stanley punched him in the shoulder, causing Stanford to wince and laugh. “Shut up!”

          “I’m just agreeing with you!”

          Stanford turned to Fiddleford. “Do you have a story?”

          “No, I’m sorry. Fiddleford shook his head.

          “That’s okay, kiddo.” Grauntie Mabel wrinkled her nose at him. “What about you, Fordsy?”

          Stanford took the light from Stanley. “Alright. I like to call this one… _Truth Ache!_ ”

 

          Stanford, a notebook in his hand as well as a pen, walked through the gift shop from outside. Dan sat at his station, scrolling through his phone. Stanley, on the other hand, caught Stanford’s attention.

          “…and, if I’m being perfectly honest, it would make a great gift for the gal.” Stanley held up a necklace with gold at the very end. It was pretty simple as the loop was probably made with one of Grauntie Mabel’s excess string-braids. The “gold” woven into it might have just been spray-painted rocks. The price tag taped to it was absurd.

          A man just a bit older than Dan took the necklace from him. “Oh! So, you really think she’ll like it?”

          “I guarantee she will!” Stanley answered with a sharp nod. “What girl could resist genuine gold and pony hair?”

          “Thanks, man!” The man ran off to the cash register, where Dan sat up and started to ring the item. As it didn’t have a barcode, he typed in the number on the tag.

          Stanford put away his notebook and stuck his pen behind his ear. “Stanley!”

          Stanley, who currently ate a shard of chocolate, turned to him as Stanford approached. “Hey, Ford! What’s up?”

          “You know as well as I do that’s not gold,” Stanford pointed out. “Or pony hair. I _watched_ Grauntie Mabel throw it in the garbage! She was actually really sad about it.”

          “Then I’m sure she’ll be happy knowing I found a good home for it.” Stanley shrugged. “Besides, he’s happy.”

          “You lied to _his face,_ ” Stanford pointed out.

          “Sometimes, you have to lie. For the greater good,” Stanley pointed out. “Like just now.”

          Stanford crossed his arms. “Really?”

          Fiddleford ran into the gift shop. “Oh, there you are! Hey, Lee.”

          Stanley turned to him. The chocolate was behind him, now. “Hey, Fidds!”

         “Have you seen my chocolate bar?” Fiddleford prompted. “I think I misplaced it or somethin’. I swore I put it on the table, though.”

          Stanley shook his head. “Uh, nope. I haven’t seen it. Did you ask Grauntie Mabel?” He lowered his voice. “You know how her pig likes to get into things.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Oh, I didn’t even consider that. Thanks, Lee!” With that, he ran off.

          Stanley smiled at Stanford. “See? Greater good!”

          Stanford scoffed and stalked off.

 

          Stanford sat in his bed. Gompers sat next to him. He rubbed Gompers’ head. “You know, Gompers, I never really realized how often Stanley lied until we came here. Grauntie Mabel seriously considers lying to be one of the seven- eight deadly sins after all. I’m really surprised Stanley can get away with what he can… ugh. I wish he could go just _one_ day without lying.”

          Gompers bleated.

          “Hmm… you know, maybe I _can_ make that happen.” Stanford took out Journal Three and flipped through it. “Ah-ha! Truth Telling Teeth! ‘Buried ’neath a tree stump in the deep forest are the truth teeth, which forces upon the wearer the inability to lie.’”

 

          After quite a bit of searching, Stanford had found the teeth buried in a box like the author had written. Now, as the teeth were locked in a box under his bed, he pretended to sleep. Then again, it was difficult to pretend to sleep when a fuzzy baby goat lay next to him.

          Stanley bounced on his bed a bit more before passing out.

          Stanford quietly slipped out of bed and took out the golden teeth from inside the box. He snuck over to his brother, who yawned. Stanford took this opportunity to put the teeth on him. They fit very snuggly over his original teeth- they even shrunk a bit. Magical items were so weird.

          Stanford poked his brother’s shoulder.

          “Hmmm?” Stanley looked up at Stanford. “Wha…?”

          “What happened to Fiddleford’s chocolate this afternoon?” Stanford prompted.

          “I ate it,” Stanley answered. “Mainly because I have little to no concern about other people’s possessions or feelings.” He hesitated as he realized what he’d just said. “Huh. That’s weird. That was strangely candid. Almost as if I am unable to lie. Well, good night.” Stanley lay back down and threw the blanket over himself.

          Stanford patted Gompers on the head with a, “Heh, we did it!” before going to his own bed to sleep.

 

          The next day, Stanford walked up to Fiddleford, who sat in the living room table fiddling with a broken phone. “Hey, Fidds!” Fiddleford stayed concentrated on a few of the wires inside of the mechanism. “Fidds?” Again, Fiddleford didn’t seem to notice him. Stanford snapped his fingers under Fiddleford’s nose. “Fiddleford?”

          “Oh! Hey, Ford.” Fiddleford looked up at him from the phone.

          “So,” Stanford sat down next to him. “Have you noticed anything different about Stanley today?”

          Fiddleford shook his head. “No. I haven’t talked with him this morning. Why? Is he sick?”

          Stanford, wearing a grin only the fox in the hen house could pull off, chuckled, “Nope.” He held out the journal to show him the page over the Truth Telling Teeth. “I thought he’d like to try them on for the day.”

          _“What?_ That’s a terrible idea!” Fiddleford gasped.

          “It’s great! Come on, he _has_ to tell the truth now,” Stanford pointed out.

          Fiddleford thought for a moment. Stanley walked through the living room. “Hello, Lee! I was wonderin’ something. How did that flashlight you brought me the other day break? The one you said someone hit with a rock?”

          “I hit someone with it.” Stanley shrugged. “I lied about the rock because I knew you’d only lecture me about how it was my fault, which it was. Also, I pretended to be Ford so that they wouldn’t catch me.”

          “So that’s why I got egged the other day,” Stanford huffed.

          “Well, I’m going to go to the bathroom without washing my hands.” With that, Stanley walked off.

          “Ew.” The two Fords recoiled and watched him go.

          Fiddleford looked at Stanford. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

          “He’ll be fine. Honesty is the best policy, you know.”

 

          Stanford next found Stanley in the gift shop. “Oh, it’s fake,” Stanley admitted.

          “What?” A new person, this time a woman, held a bracelet with “gold” in it.

          “I just spray-painted rocks to make them look pretty,” Stanley answered.

          Stanford ran to his side. “Stanley! What are you doing?”

          Stanley turned to him. “Oh, I was just selling this necklace.”

          Stanford sighed. “Grauntie Mabel said you could make your own things, but this is ridiculous.”

          The woman scoffed. “And what else here is fake?”

          “Ever-” Stanley started.

          Stanford cut him off, “I think it’s just that.” He smiled. “Stanley’s just starting out.”

          The woman huffed and dropped the necklace all the same.

          Stanford sighed and picked up the necklace. “Okay, quit it with the jewelry.”

          “There’s nothing wrong with it if they know it’s fake!” Stanley pointed out.

          “Gompers is still shy around you. Why don’t you go pet him for a while? I have a few treats by my bed.” Stanford walked off, the necklace in one hand.

 

          Stanford paced about the living room. Fiddleford, a pair of headphones now on his head, scrunched up his nose and stared at the lamp he was trying to fix. However, Stanley’s yell still seemed to get through to him. “The bandage on my arm fell off again and I forgot to wash it out so it looks weird. I just want to be honest with you guys!”

          Fiddleford took off his headphones. “Stanford, Ah admire you and Ah like yer brother, but this has _got_ to stop.”

          “He’ll just be a liar again,” Stanford pointed out.

          “Could it possibly be worse than this?” Fiddleford wheezed.

          “Oh, hello, Lee!” Grauntie Mabel greeted. “You know, I think just overheard someone talking about fake gold in the shop. Do you know anything about that?”

          Stanford’s eyes went round as moons. He rushed out of the room, Fiddleford at heel.

          “Oh, yes.” Stanley nodded. “I do. I spray-painted a bunch of rocks yellow, glued them to some of those string-braids you have, and sold them like real gold.”

          Stanford and Fiddleford stopped at the kitchen doorway. Grauntie Mabel, a cup of juice in one hand, stared at Stanley in incredulity. “You did _what?_ ”

          “I lied about the rocks being gold and I made the necklaces out of that braid string you threw away. Also, I stole a bunch of cookies from the fridge and broke the upstairs window with a golf ball when I was practicing,” Stanley agreed. “I just didn’t tell you earlier because I lie a lot.”

          Stanford ran to Stanley’s side. “Stanley! What are you do- I’m really sorry, Grauntie Mabel.”

          “Is that true?” Grauntie Mabel prompted, the beginnings of an irritated scowl on her features. Uh-oh.

          Stanford shook his head. “Oh! Uh-uh! No.” Stanford forced himself to keep eye contact with Grauntie Mabel. “Look, I am going to have to be really honest with you.” He took a deep breath. “Stanley is… is… Stanley was just reading one of my mystery books!”

          “What?” Grauntie Mabel raised an eyebrow at him.

          Stanford nodded. “Mhm. He was just talking about one of the characters- a criminal teen who’s pretending to be a kid. H-he’s never committed a crime in his life! Also, that sweater really nice today. Did you try a new style?”

          Grauntie Mabel glanced down at her blue sweater that had a yellow yarn ball with two knitting needles poking out of it. “Why yes I did! I’m trying out this new yarn. It has a really nice feel to it, but I still like my old yarn. It’s a classic.”

          “Heh, yeah,” Stanford agreed.

          “Well, you two have a good day.” Grauntie Mabel waved and walked off.

          Stanford took a deep breath and sighed. “Oh my gosh, she bought that.”

          “You’re a terrible liar!” Fiddleford agreed. “I think Ms. Pines was just giving it to you.”

          “Probably,” Stanford agreed. “Just as long as Stanley doesn’t- oh no!” Stanley walked after Grauntie Mabel. He opened his mouth to speak when Stanford bowled him over.

          “Oof! Ford!” Stanley wriggled out from under him. “What’s wrong with you?”

          Stanford held him down. “Fidds!”

          Fiddleford put his hands on Stanley’s shoulders. Stanford took the Truth Teeth straight out of Stanley’s mouth. Stanford held up the candid magic item. “We have to find someplace to get rid of these.”

          Later, Stanford set the teeth in that box and pushed it out into the Bottomless Pit.

 

          Stanford smiled. “And I never saw those teeth again.” The purple box floated nearby. “Oh! There it is.” The crumpled up paper Fiddleford had thrown was next to him. He snatched it and stuffed it in his pocket.

          “I like the part with the necklace,” Stanley stated. “The rest seemed a bit far-fetched.”

          “We already know that story,” Fiddleford pointed out. “I mean, we just lived through it!”

          Stanford gasped, “Wait! Do you see that?”

          Below them, a circle of light was getting bigger and bigger beneath them.

          “What is that?” Stanley tensed as he stared at the light.

          “Oh no!” Fiddleford squeaked.

          “Where are we going?” Grauntie Mabel stared down at the steadily approaching light.

          “Not good!” Stanford hissed through his teeth.

          They screamed as they fell straight through the light and landed on the dirty grass by the Bottomless Pit. Gompers bleated and bounded away.

          Stanley rubbed his head. “Where… where are we?”

          Fiddleford pointed to the Mystery Shack. “We’re back at the Mystery Shack!”

          Stanford looked at his watch, and then the sky. “I don’t think any time has passed. It must be some sort of wormhole!”

          “But that’s impossible!” Grauntie Mabel exclaimed. “No one is going to believe us!”

          Stanford looked up at her. “Maybe this is one story we keep to ourselves.”

          “Agreed.” The reply came from everyone else gathered.

          Fiddleford looked up at the storm clouds. “We should get inside.”

          Stanford nodded and ran to the cart. “That’s a good idea.”

          “I’m driving!” Grauntie Mabel hopped into the driver’s side. Gompers jumped up into Stanford’s lap.

 

14-15-20-8-9-14- **7** ’-19 13-15-18-5 2-15-20-20-15-13-12-5-19-19 20-8-1-14 20-8-5…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Fiddleford, but you're _a_ a bit jumpy and that has unforeseen _is_ consequences, sometimes. Also: Waddles has the worst timing.  
>  Sorry for _one_ the long wait. It seems that mini-stories are difficult to come by _z_ these days! I usually use deleted scenes, but since most _is_ deleted scenes are small or in Season 2, it was hard trying to find one that would fit an episode just shy of _twenty-six_ half-way through Season One. Also, I spent time with the family!


	15. The Deep End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the hottest day of the summer and where better to go cool off than at the pool? All's fun and games until they meet a mysterious girl who is said to have never left the pool. She speaks to no one and stays in the deep end of the pool. Something is not quite right about this girl. For the first time, Stanley's and Stanford's view on the paranormal and the mysteries of Gravity Falls differ. Will this hot, fateful day set these two brothers adrift, or will it ultimately temper and strengthen the differing mindset of the identical twins?

          “Watch out, Gravity Falls, because at one hundred and ten degrees, we’re looking at the hottest day of the summer!” Thompson Determined announced through the radio. The summer sun blazed over the Valley, bringing with it blistering heat. There was not much activity in the way of people walking. The cement underfoot was hot and reflected the mid-summer sun to a point of injury without protection. Thus, the Mystery Shack, was free of costumers.

          Within the Shack, the Woman of Wax melted as did other wax candles throughout the exhibits and gift shop. Water in the empty fish tank heated up.

          Fiddleford was fast asleep between the living room seat and the doorway. Stanford lay on the seat, his head tipped back. His jacket had been abandoned. Stanley was on the floor with one elbow on the seat as if he’d been attempting to crawl across the floor onto the seat but gave up. Grauntie Mabel lay on the wood floor, which was once cool as she’d recently mopped it. Now, under her heat and the heat of the day, she stuck to it. For once, she didn’t wear a sweater. She had on a pink tank top and white shorts. Stanford lifted a hand in the air. “All in favor of doing nothing all day, say _ugh._ ” Fiddleford woke up from his half-sleep to pitch in to the agreement.

           “On the bright side, pun very much intended, it’s opening week at the Gravity Falls Pool,” Thompson went on.

          Stanley perked up. “Pool?”

           “Today?” Stanford sat up as well.

           “Finally!” Fiddleford sat up. “I thought it’d never open!”

           “Quick! To the car!” Grauntie Mabel announced and tore herself off the ground. She shifted her pink tank top before either of the twins could notice the faint bluish symbol on her left shoulder blade. The kids shook off their summer lethargy and jumped up and out of the Shack.

 

          The pool was crowded. Children ran about. Adults lounged under the shade of umbrellas in lawn chairs. People of all shapes and sizes swam in the pool. One of two lifeguard seats were occupied.

           “Ah the _pool!_ ” Grauntie Mabel sighed as she looked about the place. She wore a pink swimming suit that had a shirt and skirt built into it and a yellow star on the front. Despite the heat of the cement underfoot, she didn’t flinch. As she didn’t wear her cap, her long gray hair fell over her back in a tight ponytail. “A land of summer enchantment!”

          Stanley, wearing gray swimming trunks, shrugged. “Nothin’ like standing in a tub full of strangers!”

           “You have a lower risk of drownin’ here than in the lake,” Fiddleford offered. He, too, bore a towel, though this one was a nice baby blue to go with the deep violet of his swimming trunks. “An’ no lake monsters or paranormal creatures.”

          Stanford nodded. “I’m a bit disappointed, but I guess I could go a day just relaxing and not being chased by gnomes or gremloblins.” He laughed at himself. “Who am I kidding? Seeing something here would be great!”

           “Hey!” They stopped and looked up. Dan lounged in the life guard’s seat. “I was wondering when you would get here.”

          Grauntie Mabel smiled. “We got a bit distracted doing nothing all day.”

           “So, you’re the life guard?” Stanley prompted.

          Dan nodded. “Mhm. Definitely. I make the rules!” He took a water balloon and threw it at Stanley. He ducked and then laughed as it hit Fiddleford.

          Fiddleford gasped and then chuckled with him.

          Grauntie Mabel waved to him. “Well, I’m going to go talk to a few of my girlfriends over there. Good luck and make sure no one drowns, Dan!”

           “You got it, Ms. Pines!” Dan called back as she left.

           “So, who’s the assistant lifeguard?” Stanley prompted.

           “Oh, no one yet,” Dan replied. “We’re holding try-outs soon.”

           “Oh, cool! Where do I try out?” Stanley prompted.

           “Well, you’ll have to check with my boss, Mr. Poolcheck.” Dan jabbed his thumb to the other side of the pool. A very muscular man did pushups using his index fingers. His pool whistle rested on the ground under his neck.

           “Your boss? Oh. Well, okay!” Stanley tromped around the other side of the pool. His brother and friend followed.

           “Are ya sure?” Fiddleford prompted. “You won’t get to swim around or anythin’.”

           “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m totally a lifeguard kinda guy.” Stanley waved his hand. “Besides, I’m the most vigilant guy here. I can def- huh?”

          Stanley and Stanford immediately turned their heads to look at the farthest corner of the deep end. A girl, perhaps twelve, backed up into a corner, her elbows on the pool raft. Long brown hair clouded the water beneath her. Her eyes stayed closed as she hummed a pretty song. A seashell necklace draped around her neck and touched her swimming shirt.

           “Who’s that?” Fiddleford prompted. The twins didn’t respond. Instead, they approached her. “Er- Ford? Lee?” He ran up to them. He turned to the girl. “Er, hello?”

          The girl stopped singing and looked up at him. A slight blush came to her cheeks. “Oh! I’m sorry, did I, uh, interrupt you or something?”

          Stanford blinked in confusion. Stanley shook his head. “Nah, nah. You didn’t. We weren’t really doing anything.”

           “You were going to talk to Mr. Poolcheck,” Fiddleford pointed out.

           “Was I? Meh. Not anymore. So whatcha doin’ out here in the deep end?” Stanley prompted.

           “Oh. I, uh, don’t like the shallows,” she admitted. “What are you doing here?”

           “Our great aunt took us to the pool. And I was just walkin’ around.” Stanley shrugged. “No big deal. Sweet voice you have there. You some kind of singer?”

           “Wh-what? My- um, no.” She shook her head again and ran her fingers through her hair. “I just like singing.” When she spoke, she showed off a gap in her teeth where a tooth was missing.

          Stanley sat down at the edge of the pool. “You know, I’m a fan of music.”

          Stanford piped up, “So, I’m guessing you’re _not_ going to try out?”

           “Huh?” Stanley looked up at him. “Eh. Maybe later.”

           “You’re going to be a lifeguard?” the girl prompted.

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah, I was just about to try out. Why?”

           “Oh, nothing.”

          Stanford walked off. “Yeaaaaaah I think I’m going to settle in the shallows.”

          Fiddleford looked behind them as they walked. “I think it’s kind of cute.”

          Stanford chuckled. “That? Stanley’s _all_ talk. He’s never shy of flirting with the girls, but he’s literally never kissed a girl before.”

           “Really? I’m a bit surprised,” Fiddleford admitted. “The two of you are really c- cool.”

           “Thanks, Fidds. You’re cool, too.”

 

          Stanley dipped his feet into the water so that his ankles and knees were wet. “So, hey! My name’s Stanley!”

           “Hola.” She spoke Spanish? _Whoa._

           “Wow! You can speak something other than English!”

          The girl chuckled. “Y-yeah. I’m bilingual.”

           “I know sign language,” he offered. _“Hello!”_ he signed.

          She chuckled. “That’s neat! I’ve never met someone who could talk with their hands.” Her eyes flicked to his hair. “Is that why you’re hair’s so pretty?” She bit her tongue and shrank into herself a bit from the sudden outburst.

          Stanley laughed. “Dude, no one’s ever told me that. But nah. Your hair’s beautiful, too.”

           “Th-thank you.” She brushed her fingers through her hair again. He recognized that motion. Fiddleford did that when he was embarrassed or stressed. So, was that her tell? Probably.

           “Hey, uh, you want to go dry off and have a few snacks?” Stanley offered and jabbed his thumb at the snack stand nearby.

          Her tentative smile left her. “Oh no. I’m afraid I can’t. I have a terrible secret. I have to go.” She pushed herself off the pool edge and, still clinging to the pool raft, swam to the other corner of the deep end.

          Stanley watched her go. “Hmm… I’m upset… yet intrigued.”

 

          Stanford sat on one of the steps into the pool. Fiddleford stayed beside him. He watched as Stanley and the girl talked. Finally, the girl ended up swimming off. “I have a strange feeling about that girl,” Stanford admitted.

           “Why?” Fiddleford prompted.

           “There’s something about her,” Stanford admitted. “How did she do that? That song- I can’t get it out of my head, now. Music’s never done that before.”

           “Maybe it’s because she’s pretty and has a nice voice?” Fiddleford prompted.

           “What? There are plenty of good looking people with good singing voices, Fidds.” Stanford waved a hand in dismissal. “They can’t make you stop what you’re thinking.”

           “Not many girls are your age, though,” Fiddleford pointed out lightly.

           “…what are you saying?”

          Fiddleford broke eye contact with Stanford. “Oh, nothin’ really. Your brother looks like he’s going for her, though.”

           “Yeah, he is. I hope he knows we’re not going to be here all day,” Stanford commented. “Ugh. I’m going to go get some cornchips.” With that, he got out of the pool. Fiddleford watched him go.

 

          Stanley, holding in his hands a sub sandwich, dipped into the pool. He took a deep breath and swam to the other end of the pool. The girl twiddled with her hair and looked into the forest. She jumped as Stanley came out of the water near her. “Hey there!” He set down the sandwich he held on her raft. “I brought a sandwich. It’s wet, but still good.” He set an elbow on the cement again. “You know, I like sharing things. Sandwiches, secrets…” He smiled at her.

          The girl looked down at the sandwich. “Well… that sandwich does look delicious.” She sighed. “Okay. I will tell you. But you must promise to never tell another living soul.”

          Stanley held up his hand. “I promise.”

           “You should stay away from me because I am…” She moved the raft to reveal the rest of her body. From the waist up, she was a girl. From the waist down, a long, pink fish tail waved in the water. “-a mermaid.”

          Stanley chuckled. “Thank goodness. I thought you were going to say you had a boyfriend.” She gave him a blank stare. “But, ha! A mermaid. That would explain your voice. Mermaids have really nice voices, right?”

          She nodded. “Mhm. Mermen do, too. I don’t have the best voice.”

           “So what’s your name?” Stanley prompted.

           “Some call me Mermanda. After my great uncle. That’s because Mermanda is my name.”

           “But… I don’t understand one thing. Why is a girl like you here?” Stanley asked. “Don’t mermaids live in the lake or the ocean?”

          Mermanda sighed. “It is a tragic tale…” She gripped the seashell on her necklace. “I swam with a pod of dolphins just off the Gulf of Mexico when I was ensnared! Once they caught me, they tried to bring me to Gravity Falls to eat me.”

          _Mermanda poked her head out of a moving box in the truck. She slipped out of the box and flopped into the lake, where she swam as fast as she could away from it. Eventually, she reemerged to swim up the only escape- the waterfall._

           “Using all of my strength I tried to escape back home, but it was not to be.”

          _Mermanda flopped up the waterfall like a salmon. Once she managed to get to the lip of it, she yelled in victory. A log crashed into her and threw her into the lake. Only half-conscious, she beached. She spat out a tooth._

           “I would have died of dehydration, were it not for the kindness of the forest animals.”

          _A small herd of deer gathered around Mermanda and licked her. She giggled and squirmed under them. “Continue licking! Oh!” She gasped as she fell into a drain. She landed in the dry, summer brush and flopped down a small hill until finally she got over the fence of the pool and fell in._

          Mermanda sighed. “But now that you know what I am, you must be seriously weirded out by me.”

           “ _Whaaaat?_ Nah, I don’t care that you’re a mermaid.” He waved his hand with a short “Pfft”. She looked up at him. “You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. And you can talk in more than one language.”

          Mermanda smiled. “Stanley, I’ve never met another human like you. Would you like to join me in a game of Marco Polo?”

          Stanley perked up. “Sure!”

 

          Stanford finished off his corn chips in the shadow of one of the trees near the snack bar. He glanced at Stanley and Mermanda as they swam about. There was something weird about her. Fiddleford brushed him off as having a crush on her but that wasn’t true. Stanley was more outgoing than Stanford by miles.

          Yet, as he watched them play, Stanford’s thoughts softened a bit. Maybe Fiddleford was right. He just thought she was a pretty girl. There was nothing strange about that. It didn’t have to be- Stanford sat up straight. Something pink glimmered beneath Mermanda as she swam. It wasn’t on her body, like a swimming suit. It had to be her feet or legs. No one but Grauntie Mabel would just put glitter on themselves for the sake of it. Even if she did, the water would wash it away.

          Stanford looked at Mr. Poolcheck as he tested the water. He nodded.

 

           “And that’s why I would make a good lifeguard,” Stanford finished.

          Mr. Poolcheck finished hammering an excessive amount of nails into a “DO NOT ENTER” sign on the Pool Supplies closet. “Hmm…” Mr. Poolcheck knelt and sniffed him. “SPF 100. I like you.” He stood up straight. He pointed to the pool. “But this isn’t an easy job. It’s anarchy out there!” A few people lounged on floating ducks and rafts about the pool. Some kids splashed about.

           “I think I can handle it,” Stanford replied. He turned to look at Mr. Poolcheck just as he knelt beside him.

           “Can you handle _THIS!?_ ” Mr. Poolcheck took off his right hand. Stanford screamed in surprise. “I lost my hand to a pool filter!” He screwed the prosthetic appendage back on. “The pool may seem friendly, but she can turn on you in an instant. Which is why you need to _respect_ her rules!” He grabbed Stanford by the shoulders. “Do you think you have what it takes? _Do you?!”_

          Stanford glanced at the pool. Mermanda pushed Stanley’s head under the water. He came back up a second later and did the same to her. He looked back to Mr. Poolcheck. “Yes.”

          Mr. Poolcheck took out a whistle on a necklace and gently put it on Stanford. “Welcome to the Deep End, son.”

           “Thank you, I-” Stanford choked as Mr. Poolcheck strangled him in a hug. “Okay, this is happening,” Stanford wheezed. Did his ribs just break? That was a possibility.

 

          Fiddleford sat on a rubber duck floatie beside Grauntie Mabel, who chattered away with a few other ladies. He’d look about the pool every so often. Stanley and Mermanda played. Stanford was initiated into the pool crew. Fiddleford… didn’t have anything to do.

          Grenda looked at Fiddleford. “So, what are you doing here?” Her voice was deeper than a normal woman’s, almost as if she had a cold.

          Fiddleford jumped and looked at her. “H-huh?”

           “Are you another great nephew? Or a grandson? Did you get a grandson without telling me?” Grenda looked at Grauntie Mabel, who laughed.

           “I’d _never!_ I share everything with you, Grenda, you’re my girlfriend! Nah, but he may as well be, eh?” Grauntie Mabel looked at Fiddleford.

          Fiddleford gave a shy smile in return. “Oh, eh, thanks. I’m, um, the repair guy at the Mystery Shack. Um… Ms. Pines just invited me over to the pool.”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Don’t be shy, Sweet-heart! Grenda doesn’t bite.”

           “So, what about Ms. Chiu?” Fiddleford prompted.

          Grenda’s smile turned into a grimace. They were plunged into an awkward silence. Grauntie Mabel sighed. “Oh she’s… not in the swimming mood. But she’s over there.” She gestured to the tree shade, where “Old Woman” Chiu sat on one of the pool lounge chairs.

          Fiddleford put a hand on his neck. Well, if they were already in a negative mood over it, why not continue? “Why don’t you invite her over?”

           “Like I said, she’s not in the swimming mood,” Grauntie Mabel informed him.

          Fiddleford watched as “Old Woman” Chiu ate a sandwich. She threw nearly half of the bread at the fence so that the forest animals would eat them. No humans were around her. “Okay. Sorry.”

           “Don’t be sorry, kid. You care. _Never_ apologize for caring, okay?” Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Even if it lands you in awkward places. A little bit of kindness can go a long way.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Thank you.” He slipped out of his pool duck, got out of the pool, and carried it to the floaties room nearby. He got a bag of corn chips while he was there.

          Fiddleford took a deep breath and walked over to where the old woman sat. Her sandwich was gone. “Ms. Chiu?”

           “Old Woman” Chiu turned to look at him. Though she was slightly wall-eyed, Fiddleford got the sense she could see him well enough. “Hello there, kid!”

           “Ah got some chips for ya.” Fiddleford held out the bag of chips he held.

           “Well that’s very nice of you.”

           “Ah’m Fiddleford,” Fiddleford introduced himself. “We met before? Ya made that big Gobblewonker robot?”

          Her look of confusion brightened into recognition. “You’re that fella with a boat, aren’tcha?”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah. Ah-Ah like to build things, too. But Ah could never built anything like those.”

           “Well, what do ya got?”

           “What do Ah have?” Fiddleford echoed. “Um… well, Ah haven’t finished building it, but Ah’m trying to make a robot that uses echolocation and heat sensors to map out dark places–like the bottom of the lake–or help with navigation or something!” As Fiddleford spoke about the thing he loved to do most, he lost his shyness and his fear.

 

          Stanford found Dan by the pool jail, where he’d just put a fourteen-year-old kid. He held out his whistle. “I’m hired!”

           “Aw, cool!” Dan exclaimed. “Let’s go see if we can catch some rule-breakers!”

          Stanford smiled and followed him as he ran off. He looked over the pool. It was quiet as most people had either expended their energy too much to play, or didn’t have the energy in the first place. His gaze followed Stanley and Mermanda for a short time as the two-played tag. Mermanda seemed to go underwater for long amounts of time…

 

          A while later, a whistle rang out through the pool. “Pool’s closing! Clear out everyone!” Mr. Poolcheck, riding a cart, yelled through a megaphone. Mermanda, who’d been brushing out Stanley’s hair, and Stanley looked up at the noise.

           “The pool, she closes,” Mermanda sighed. She looked at Stanley and put her comb down. “Can we meet again?”

           “Tonight? Sure.” Stanley shrugged. “I think I can manage that.”

           “Thank you!” Mermanda dove under the water and hid beneath the shadow of the diving board. Stanley hopped out of the water to meet up with his family and best friend.

 

          Stanford and Dan, who’d been standing just outside their station playing a quiet game of I Spy, looked up. “Okay, time to go. Look like you’re working.” Dan walked off. Somehow, he made his escape look as if he was walking with a purpose other than eluding lock-up chores.

          Stanford attempted to follow, but was stopped. “Check out! Do not touch! Assistant Lifeguard!” Mr. Poolcheck drove up next to him. Stanford looked up at him and bit his tongue. “Have a good night, son. Lock up the pool supplies for me.” He took off his prosthetic hand, dumped a pair of keys from them into Stanford’s hand, and then reattached his arm and drove off.

 

          That night, Stanley snuck the golf cart around to the side of the pool. Then, his concentration on the task of trying to find a stealthy place to hide was broken. Mermanda’s silken voice drifted through the night. Stanley turned off the golf cart and ran to the fence. There she was! She was by the deep end, her head only inches from the ground and her mouth open in a song. Stanley could _feel_ the heartache in it. Despite having no words, he could feel her heartache and her loneliness. He needed to get into that pool. Stanley looked around and found a pool skimmer hanging on the fence. He grabbed it and then slid it through the fence mesh. The pool skimmer bent as he put his weight on it and jumped the fence.

          Mermanda stopped singing once she discovered Stanley was there. “Hey, Stanley!” Her smile returned.

          Stanley hesitated for a moment as the song that bewitched him ended and he was given full control over his thoughts again. He hopped into the pool and set his elbow on the cement lip of the pool. “Hey, Mermanda.”

          She looked at his ruffled hair and then at the cart. “You have a cart?”

           “No. It’s my great aunt’s,” Stanley informed her. “It’s for the Mystery Shack.”

           “ _Oh!_ So that’s the Mystery Shack. What about your great aunt and your brother and friend? Where do they go?” Mermanda prompted.

          Stanley chuckled. “Well, my great aunt and Ford are asleep. Fidds probably is, too. I snuck out. I’m good at doing it. Ford and I share a room.”

           “You sneak out a lot?”

           “Less than people think,” Stanley admitted. “I don’t go nowhere without my brother. Heh. Except tonight!”

           “Your brother doesn’t like me, does he?”

           “Ah, I’m sure he does. He’s just paranoid.” Stanley waved his hand. “Ford can be real paranoid. We’re monster hunters. It’s kind of our thing.” He nodded.

           “Monster hunters? Like, you hunt down monsters? Why?” a slight nervousness had crept into her voice.

           “Hey! Don’t look at me like that! We don’t kill anyone. ’Sides, you probably don’t count. I wouldn’t, like, hunt you or anything. You’re cool. We hunt down things like gnomes and gremloblins!” Stanley bared his teeth in an excited smile.

          Mermanda listened to Stanley’s stories in enraptured excitement. She’d ask about the mundane details quite often. What was it like to ride in a cart? What does the ground feel like when walking on it? What’s it like to be dry? What’s it like to pet a goat? How does it feel to not need to be in a pool? What’s it like to fly? Unfortunately, Stanley didn’t have an answer to that last question.

           “…but after the summer, we’re goin’ home.” Stanley’s excited voice took a morose tone.

           “You’re… going home?” Mermanda asked and tipped her head. “Do you not live at the Mystery Shack?”

          Stanley shook his head. “No. Grauntie Mabel lives in the Shack and Fidds lives in town. My bro and I live in New Jersey- all the way across the country.”

          Mermanda nodded. “I understand.”

           “What about your family?” Stanley prompted. “Where do they live?” Mermanda sighed and turned away from him. Stanley followed her. “What’s wrong?”

          She didn’t look back at him. “I… used to have a family. Back in the ocean.” She took the sea shell on her necklace and pinched it. It opened to reveal a family photo of her, her parents, and a little sister. “I miss them.”

           “Why don’t you leave the pool?” Stanley prompted.

           “I’ve tried… once. But it takes a plan that was much too daring for me.”

          _Night settled over the pool. It was quiet. Mermanda, unused to her chlorinated, quiet prison, looked about the area. She dove into the deep end, swam in a few circles, and then launched herself out of the water. She didn’t get far before landing on hard concrete. She gasped and flopped about like a trout that had landed on a boat. She knocked over tables and chairs as she went. A woodpecker landed on her head and knocked her skull a few times before flying off. She landed back in the pool, a hand on her aching head._

          Mermanda smiled and shook her head. “No, I’m glad that I’m here, ’cause I met you.” A shooting star whisked through the stars behind her.

          _This is it, Stanley. First kiss moment, here we come! Just go for it!_ Stanley leaned toward her.

          She looked back at him. “What are you doing with your mouth?”

           “Huh? Oh, uh, Me? Nothing.” Stanley shook his head and grinned. “I don’t know.”

 

          The sun rose as a new day dawned. Stanford and Dan were at their stations. Dan chucked a life saver at Sherriff Blubbs and then deputy Durland as they were putting sunscreen on. Both of them gasped as the lifesavers pinned their arms to their sides.

           “Ah’m scared!” Deputy Durland cried.

           “Me, too!” Sheriff Blubbs agreed and fell down.

           “Yes!” Dan hissed and laughed. “Ford?”

           “Oh! Heh, yeah! Hundred points!” Stanford declared and turned his attention on Dan. Stanley was with Mermanda again. She was way less shy. Though Stanley seemed a bit tired this morning, he had no qualms about going to the pool rather than taking a nap. It had been to “make sure Ford didn’t goof off at work”, but Stanley didn’t pay any attention to Stanford whatsoever as soon as they got to the pool.

           “With this job, we’re going to be having fun all summer!” Dan laughed.

          A whistle blew, causing them both to jump. “PINES! Here! Now!”

 

          Stanford stood in front of the supply closet. Mr. Poolcheck, a broken pool skimmer in his hand, stalked back and forth in front of him. “You gave me your word that you would respect the safety rules of this pool!” Tears blurred his eyes.

           “Uh, Mr. Poolcheck? Are you crying?” Stanford asked.

           “That’s not important right now!” Mr. Poolcheck spun around and pointed at Stanford. His finger shook. “You’re on the nights, boy! You wanna keep this job? Well, some _maniac_ broke in to the supplies closet last night and destroyed our one and only pool skimmer!” He held up the broken pool skimmer. “I want you on a stakeout. If one more supply gets taken, you’re fired!”

           “I won’t let you down.”

 

           “Mermanda! Watch out!” Stanley threw a beach ball up and smacked it. It bounced off her head. She didn’t even flinch. “Mermanda? Are you okay?” Mermanda swam over to him, her gaze downcast. “It’s your family, right? You thinkin’ about them?” She made a sad dolphin sound. “Nope. Enough is enough. I care about you too much to see you like this, Mermanda! We’re gunna bust you out o’ here and get you back to your family!”

          Mermanda looked at him in shock. “But, Stanley! Escape is impossible.”

           “Not when you’re with me. We’re breaking you out of here- tonight!” He slammed his fist into the water, causing it to splash over them both. He laughed. “Whoops! Water.”

 

          Stanford stalked about the pool, flashlight in his hand. Although he wore his normal attire, a red cap with a white front sat snuggly on his head. “NIGHT PATROL” was written on the white front. He looked about the fence, buildings, and pool as he went. “Alright, Stanford, here’s the plan: Catch the trespasser, protect the supplies, keep job at pool, and eventually find out what the mystery behind that girl is.” Something shuffled behind him. He whipped around and pointed his flashlight at the offending area. “Freeze! …Stanley? _Fiddleford?”_

          Stanley and Fiddleford stood on the other side of the fence, their hands held up. “Hey!” Stanley waved and lowered his hands. “What’s up, Sixer?”

           “Are you two the ones that have been destroying pool equipment?”

           “N-no!” Fiddleford answered at once. Stanford lowered the flashlight. Just seeing Fiddleford’s eyes go wide and his muscles lock felt sad. But knowing he was the one causing it made his heart hurt. “Ah-Ah swear we… we weren’t breakin’ anythin’.”

           “I convinced him to come with me,” Stanley agreed. “He couldn’t break something if he _tried._ ”

           “Well, yeah,” Stanford agreed. “But why are you here? Why’d you make him come with you? …are you trying to convince him to hack into the supplies, Stanley?”

           “Pfft, no.” Stanley waved his hand. “Give me some credit, bro! I can break a stupid lock. Not that I was going to do that of course. Nice hat.”

          Stanford shook his head. “Go home before I call Grauntie Mabel.” Fiddleford looked between the quarreling brothers and left.

           “We’re not doin’ anything wrong,” Stanley pointed out. “We’re outside of the fence.”

           “Well you’re out past bed time,” Stanford countered.

           “Hmm. You have a good point,” Stanley agreed. “But, counterpoint: you’re being lame.”

           “That’s not a counter-point, Stanley! That’s name-calling!” Stanford huffed.

           “It’s not name-calling if it’s true, Ford.”

           “Well then you admit it’s name-calling.”

           “I’m admitting to nothing.”

           “Would you go home, already?”

           “You’re up so I can stay up!”

           “I’m at a _job_ , Stanley. You aren’t.”

           “Yeah, well, you’re talkin’ to me, right?” Stanley crossed his arms.

           “Stanley I swear to- huh?” The chain link fence shuttered somewhere. Stanford tensed and ran around the pool.

           “We’re not done talkin’ Ford!” Stanley complained.

          Stanford ignored him. Near the supply shed, a large square had been cut through the wall. Stanford flashed his light over the dark forest. “Who’s there?” he called. He set a weapon on the inside of his jacket, where he knew he kept a knife. “Show yourself!”

           “Out of the way, bro!” Stanley yelled. Stanford stumbled back as the Mystery Shack cart backed up so quickly through the hole it nearly fell into the pool.

           “What are you doing? Are you _crazy?!”_ Stanford yelled.

           “No time to explain, but it’s for the best!” Stanley picked open the supply closet with comical ease and heaved a cooler into the trunk.

          Stanford grabbed him by the arm. “No! Stanley, that’s _stealing!_ Seriously stealing! I can’t just let you get away with this.”

           “Sure, you can. You’re my brother,” Stanley pointed out and wrenched his arm out of Stanford’s grasp so that he could finish loading the cooler to the back. “And we’re best friends. And you’d trust me when I told you this was really, really important, right?”

           “If it was important, yeah,” Stanford agreed. “But I don’t see how a water cooler is important. We have those at home.”

          Stanley put both hands on Stanford’s shoulders. “Bro, this is extremely important.” As they spoke, Fiddleford snuck in behind him and stuck a water hose into the cooler. “Literally the most important thing I’ve ever done in my whole life.”

           “What _is_ it Stanley?” Stanford took a step back. “Why do you need this so badly?”

           “I can’t tell you.”

           “You can’t tell me?” Stanford raised his eyebrows at him.

           “Yeah. But you gotta trust me that it’s _really_ important,” Stanley stressed.

           “Why can’t you tell me?” Stanford asked. _He was keeping secrets from me? The person he trusts the most? …I_ was _trustworthy, wasn’t I?_

           “I know that look on your face. Don’t you dare,” Stanley pointed a finger at Stanford. “I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone and that includes you. I–”

           “It’s that girl isn’t it?” Stanford interrupted with a cold snap. Stanley quieted immediately. Erg! How could Stanford be so _stupid?_ It all adds up! The stealing, the sneaking, the secrets- obviously that girl was getting between them! “Isn’t it? You’re letting her get between us, aren’t you? What’s so special about her, huh? What makes her great enough to make you not trust me?”

           “I trust you, Ford, really!” Stanley held up a hand. “I do! But- I mean-” For the first time in Stanford’s life, he watched as Stanley struggled to make up a lie.

          Ford’s gaze drifted behind him. Fiddleford cut off the hose and rolled it back. The cooler, half full of water, sat open just in front of the pool. Then, it clicked with Stanford. “Your new girlfriend’s a mermaid, isn’t she?” Stanford asked, his voice slow as the revelation caught up to him.

          Stanley bit his lip. “Well… no? Okay, fine. I-I couldn’t tell you, though!”

           “Why not?” Stanford turned his attention on Stanley again. “I’m your brother- we’re supposed to be together on this! We’re the Mystery Twins, remember?”

           “She made me promise not to tell anyone,” Stanley denied. A brown-gold-and-pink shape burst out of the water and landed in the cooler. “I’ve got to go. I’m real sorry.” He took Stanford’s hat and dragged it down over his eyes. Stanford’s glasses clattered to the cement. Stanford gasped and put his hands on his hat. Stanley hopped into the Mystery Shack cart. “Come on, Fidds!”

           “Ah-Ah- you go on!” Fiddleford called after him and ran to Stanford’s side.

           “Thanks, Fidds.” Stanley drove into the brush.

          Stanford pulled his hat off his head and shook himself. Fiddleford picked up his glasses and gave them back to Stanford. “Ah’m terribly sorry, Ford.”

          Stanford set his hat back on and glared at the place Stanley had left. “Go home, Fiddleford.” He ran past him to get to the pool mobile. Fiddleford followed him. “Ugh! I told you to go home, Fiddleford!” Stanford snapped at him as he turned on the ignition.

          Fiddleford put on his seat belt. “Ford, Stanley’s movin’ a mermaid. What if she gets scared and starts screamin’ or somethin’?”

           “Then she’d probably put us under a spell.” Stanford slammed his foot into the gas pedal and urged the vehicle forward. “Which makes this all the more dangerous. Ugh! Stanley is so- so- _irresponsible_! He just doesn’t get it, does he? His actions have consequences and sometimes those consequences can be really, really _bad._ If he’d just listened to me, we could take her to the lake _safely_. This is just why I didn’t want you to come, either.”

           “Wh-what do ya mean by that?”

          Stanford huffed, his face distorting further. Fiddleford caught himself wondering if he’d just swore instead of asked for clarification. “I knew that it was dangerous. Stanley didn’t and that’s why he brought you along. You’re just going to get hurt. You’re a kind guy. You shouldn’t have to clean up after my brother.”

          Fiddleford didn’t answer right away. Stanford kept his eyes glued to the path ahead of them, which soon turned into a road. Fiddleford, on the other hand, kept looking at Stanford. “Ah’m happy ta help in any way Ah can, Stanford. That means you and that means Stanley.”

           “I know.” There was resignation in his voice now. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He perked up as he found the colorful Mystery Shack cart. He picked up the megaphone from the floorboard and turned it on. “STANLEY! Stop the cart in the name of pool law!”

           “Pool law is dumb!” Stanley yelled back.

          The watercooler lid opened a bit to reveal Mermanda’s eyes. “Stanley, your brother doesn’t look to happy. I didn’t mean to get between you two.”

           “Nah, it’s fine,” Stanley denied with a small huff. “He’ll get it over it soon enough. Besides, he’s probably mad because he thinks I’m being selfish and irresponsible. But getting you home to your family isn’t selfish or irresponsible, right? So, by that logic, he won’t be mad!”

          Mermanda shut the lid of the cooler.

          Stanford turned on the mega-phone again. “Seriously, pull over! Stop the cart!”

           “Make me!” Stanley called back.

           “You’re so mature,” Stanford muttered under his breath.

          Fiddleford gave him a cautious smile. “That’s just Stanley bein’ stubborn.”

           “It is.” Stanford’s scowl toned down to annoyed grimace. He spoke into the megaphone again. “One last time, Stanley: _Stop. The. Cart!_ ”

           “A-ha!” Stanley gasped. A sign stated “LAKE 3 MILES” ahead of them. “The lake!” He turned the cart at high speed, which caused it to fish-tail and the cooler to shutter. Water splashed out the sides.

          Stanford’s eyes grew round as he watched the cooler shift and shutter. Mermanda was moving in there- and not in a calm order of any type. The straps holding it shifted as well. “Stanley! The cooler’s slipping!”

           “The cooler?” Stanley sucked air in through his teeth and stole a glance back.

          Mermanda yelped as the cooler shifted again. She put her hands on her head. “Uh- uh!  Calm! Calm! I n-need a calm song. Calm! Calm!” She took a deep breath and started to sing.

          Stanley and Stanford both reacted. First, their grips on their respective wheels slackened. They shut their eyes and lurched forward. Fiddleford, completely unaffected, took the steering wheel in one hand and wrapped an arm around Stanford to keep him from falling sideways. “Mermaid! You’re making them fall asleep!” Stanford, gently snoring, didn’t twitch as Fiddleford yelled so close to his ear.

          Mermanda stopped her song in an instant and poked her head out. “Sleep? But I thought ca- how are you not asleep?”

           “Ah don’t know! Reverse it, please!” Fiddleford called back. Their vehicle slowed as Stanford’s foot slipped off the accelerator. Fiddleford set his own foot down to keep them going. “Ford, wake up!”

          Ahead of them, the Mystery Shack cart teetered and slowed. Stanley seemed about ready to fall off. Mermanda took a deep breath and let out a shrill wail. Stanford and Stanley jerked out of their sleep. Stanley grabbed the wheel again and, a slight embarrassed flush coming to his cheeks, took control over the cart again.

           “Fidds?” Stanford looked up at Fiddleford, who immediately let go. Stanford took the wheel. “What just happened?”

           “She accidentally put ya to sleep so I took the wheel,” Fiddleford answered, significantly less tense now.

           “I… thanks, Fidds.” He turned ahead again. “We’re near the lake, anyway.”

          Stanley stopped the Mystery Shack cart by the water. Stanford came to a stop nearby. Stanford held up his hand. “Stanley, please. Just stop and listen.”

          Stanley, one hand on a handle of the cooler, stared right back at his brother. “Yeah, Ford?”

          Stanford sighed. “I’m sorry. We could have done this together. We could have prevented this. Then she would get to go home and we wouldn’t have had to fight. I wasn’t going to stop you. I wanted to help!”

          Stanley put a hand to his neck. “Yeah, guess I was pretty dumb.” He looked down at the water cooler, where Mermanda had peeked her head out. “But, uh… you ready to go home?”

          The widest grin they’d ever seen her wear brightened her features. She set her hands on the lip of the container and lifted herself up. “Y-yes! Yes, please!”

          Stanley backed the Mystery Shack cart up to the very edge of the docks. Then, he and Stanley dragged the water cooler over the wood and to the edge. Mermanda leaped out into the lake with an excited laugh and caused the water cooler to fall over and empty its contents. They watched her shadow dart to and fro under the lake surface.

          Finally, she reemerged, laughing like the little girl she was with a joy to make the three of them smile. She squeaked like a dolphin and then cleared her throat. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!” She cried and jumped up, her arms wrapped around Stanley’s neck and shoulders in a vice grip. Stanley wheezed and, after making sure that he was stable on the dock, hugged her back. “Oh, you’re truly the best human I’ve ever met. Thank you, thank you!” She, still gripping Stanley, looked over at Stanford and Fiddleford. “Thank you, too! You are very good people.”

          Stanford smiled and put a hand to the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was mostly Stanley.”

           “It was.” Mermanda turned her full attention on Stanley and, in a motion too quick to have been deliberate, she pulled him forward for a kiss.

           “Okay, wow.” Stanford held up a hand and turned around. Fiddleford strolled back to the cart.

          Mermanda let go of him. “Thank you so much.”

          Stanley, grinning ear to ear, shrugged. “Yeah, it was nothin’. Hey, when you get back home, don’t forget to call or do whatever merpeople do. We live on the coast, too.”

           “Oh, good! I will!” Mermanda coughed. Her smile dimmed. “Ah… if I could yell loud enough that is! Darn my terrible singing.”

          Stanford sighed and walked off. He came back a moment later with a megaphone. “I’m sure this is loud enough.”

          Stanley took it from his brother and gave it to Mermanda. “Will this work?”

           “Of course it will! Thank you! Haha I’m sorry. I’m thanking you too much.” She clutched the megaphone to her chest. “Goodbye, Stanley.”

           “Goodbye, Mermanda.” Stanley waved to her. She waved back and chirped like a dolphin before diving back into the lake. He glanced back at Stanford. “You did the right thing, bro.”

           “Yeah, yeah.” Stanford held out a hand to help his brother to his feet.

          Stanley stopped once they hit the shore. “Wait! One last thing!” He ran up to a pile of rocks cascading into the lake and stopped at the very edge, one hand held up in a fist and a triumphant smirk playing on his features. Mermanda leaped out of the water above him and fell back into the lake. Rainbows shimmered down as the dawn light refracted off the water droplets that trailed her. “YES! Heh. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

 

          Later that morning, Stanford stood up straight near the supply closet. Mr. Poolcheck paced back and forth like an angry leopard. “A wrecked fence, dents in the pool mobile, and a missing megaphone?” He stopped and turned his attention on Stanford. How fast could Stanford run again? Not that fast, probably. “Who is responsible for this?!”

          Stanford swallowed. “It’s my fault, sir. I’m sorry. I got in too deep.”

          Mr. Poolcheck held out a shaking hand. His voice became brittle. “Hand over the whistle, _boy._ ”

          Stanford gave him the whistle. Mr. Poolcheck held both strings out and bit through it to snap it. Then, he shoved the whistled into his mouth and chewed apart the metal and leather. Stanford, eyes round as moons, backed away.

          As he walked, he found Fiddleford talking avidly with “Old Woman” Chiu. They held papers and metal parts and snacks around them. Dan ruffled Stanford’s hair, causing him to gasp and duck. “Dan?”

           “Hey, Ford.” Dan, dressed in his usual relaxed attire, shoved his hand back in his pocket. “So, I just got fired, too.”

           “Really? Why?” Stanford prompted.

          Dan smirked. “I guess Mr. Poolcheck found out I was taking too many snacks.”

           “How much is too many?”

          Dan took off his beanie. A stack of cornchip bags were pressed to his head. The two laughed and Dan, grinning, put his beanie back on. “Do you want to stir up some trouble somewhere?”

           “Er, sure.” Stanford walked beside Dan as he left.

          Stanley kicked his feet in the pool water. As the excitement of last night, and that morning, faded, a sadness fell over him. Grauntie Mabel sat down next to him. “What’s with the long face?”

           “Huh? Wha- er, nothing.” Stanley shrugged. “What are you doing here?”

           “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice you three being so tired after only one of you went on night patrol last night?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. She looked about the pool. “Was it that girl that stayed in the deep end?”

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah. It turns out she was a mermaid so we had to bring her to the lake. I kinda broke some pool supplies doing it.”

           “A mermaid?” Grauntie Mabel echoed, raising her eyebrows.

           “Yeah, yeah. You don’t believe in the paranormal or nothin’, I know.”

           “You know, my first boyfriend was a merman.”

           “Huh?” Stanley looked at her.

           “Mermando,” Grauntie Mabel agreed with a chuckle. A mist fell over her eyes. “We met at a pool, too. I helped him out, much to my brother’s annoyance.”

           “What happened after that?” Stanley prompted.

           “Oh, we stayed together a while. Jeez, a good four years? A lot of it was bottle messages, but I lived close to a beach. So, he’d visit every so often. He lived in the Gulf of Mexico, though, and I was in California. That made things hard.” Her smile faded. “Ah too bad he had to marry the princess of the manatees to prevent a civil war. She’s a pretty one, too.”

           “Do you still talk to him?” Stanley prompted.

           “Sometimes,” she replied. “We keep in touch. I know he has a few grandchildren of his own. His little brother had a few children and grandchildren.”

           “Did he ever tell you about his family?”

           “Oh definitely. He includes at least one thing about his family in every letter,” Grauntie Mabel informed him. “The latest was of his little great niece- Mermanda. She was named after him, as you can tell. He told me she was having problems talking and singing. Singing is a huge part of merpeople language.”

           “Mermanda? That’s the mermaid I saved!” Stanley gasped.

          Grauntie Mabel’s grin grew wider. “Really? Wow, what a coincidence. If she’s anything like her great uncle, you’re going to be very hard pressed to find a way to get rid of her now!”

           “How?” Stanley cocked his head. “I mean, I’m a human and live on land… she’s a mermaid and lives in the water…”

           “Never stopped anyone before.” Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll be sending some bottles your way. Besides, you and your brother play on the beach back home? It couldn’t be more perfect than if you lived in Texas. Don’t worry, Lee.” She ruffled his hair. “You’re a real _catch!_ No way she’d let you go!”

          Stanley laughed and ducked out of her grasp. “Grauntie!”

 

1-13 9 14-15-20 20-18-21-19-20-23-15-18-20-8-25?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone expect Mermando? I couldn't just NOT mention _a_ him, you know. This is Mermando we speak of! But, I put a different spin on this story. As I was _is_ firm about Dan having no _one_ romantic relationship with the Pines and vice versa, I _z_ had to think of some way to keep Stanford at the pool. This _is_ seems like the perfect solution! I also _twenty-six_ wanted Grauntie Mabel to tell her story because it was so darn adorable.
> 
> Also, Markiplier's first tour was in Dallas on Wednesday. Who knew I could luck out and visit! Too bad that meant this got put off.


	16. Carpet Diem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley is not a jealous boy. He was rarely jealous of his brother. Any anger or bitterness Stanley felt at comparisons between him and Stanford was directed at the comparer. When Fiddleford discovers a secret room, the Stan twins are the first to investigate. Yet, it seems that this discovery might not just have the surface consequences of its powerful nature, but those of jealousy and blindness as well.

          Stanley and Stanford, golf clubs in their hands, stood in the only relatively clear space in their room. The rest of the room was covered in random objects and obstacles pinned with notes saying: “COURSE” and then the course number under it. Gompers sat on the bed next to their score sheet.

          Stanley tapped an eyeball into a cup. He cheered, “Haa! Total domination! I am a master of _Attic Stuff Mini-Golf!_ From the mighty Swiss Alps to the terrible badlands of my old laundry where man fears to tread.”

          Stanford walked up to the next ball. “Alright, let a pro onto the field.” He hit the ball a bit too hard. He ducked as it ricocheted off a diver’s helmet, hit the wall behind him, rolled off an incline, and broke through the window.

           “OW!” Grauntie Mabel’s voice came from outside. “It hit me right in the head! What was that?”

           “Ha! Mabel-Shot! How many points is that?” Stanford turned to Stanley.

          Stanley glanced at Gompers, who ate the score sheet. “Judge says it’s out of bounds.”

           “ _You’re_ out of bounds!” Stanford countered and poked him with the end of his golf club.

           “Hey, watch it!” Stanley returned the action and soon their game of mini golf turned into a sword fight.

          A bell rang a few times before silencing itself. Stanley stamped the club onto the floor and leaned on it. “Well, I gotta go hang out with Hank and Nick.”

           “Again? You can’t leave mid-game,” Stanford complained.

          Stanley huffed, “What are you talkin’ about, bro? I ain’t leavin’. Nick and Hank are coming here!”

          The door opened. Hank strolled in while Nick leaped inside and held up his hands. “WE HAVE ARRIVED!” Nick cried. Gompers bleated in shock and hid behind Stanford.

           “Hey, Ford. What’s up?” Hank prompted.

           “Uh, we were just playing… oh hush, Gompers.” Stanford patted Gompers on the head.

          Nick looked over at his golf club. “Cool golf clu- Whoa, wait. Do you have _six fingers?_ ”

          Stanford jumped and immediately turned to him. “Wh-what? Er, yes.” Stanford’s words were stiff. Stanley lost a bit of his cheer.

           “Oh dude, that’s _awesome!”_ Nick laughed. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” He bounded up to Stanford and took his wrist, the one not holding the golf club.

           “Uh-? What?” was all Stanford could say.

           “I _mean:_ that’s really cool!” Nicolas elaborated. “I’ve never seen a person with six fingers before.”

           “N-normally people make fun of me for it,” Stanford admitted.

           “Why?” Nick echoed.

           “Because… it’s weird?”

          Nick didn’t let go of him but instead continued looking at his hand. “Wow! The people back at your place must be dumber than rocks! This is _so cool!_ ”

          Hank piped up, “This is the weirdest place in the country, Ford. Having six fingers isn’t too out of the norm when you have to look out for dinosaurs when you’re out fishing. Or the Hide-Behind when your chopping trees.”

          Stanford smiled. “I… fit in here.” _“I just wonder if there’s anywhere in the world where weirdos like me fit in.”_ He could recall himself saying that just a few weeks ago. After they found the Stan o’ War, a trio of bullies at least thrice their size picked on Stanford’s insecurities over his hands. He’d been wondering this question for a long time before that. He just chose then to say it. Yet now, his question was answered- just weeks after asking it. Maybe he should think aloud more often?

           “Definitely!” Nick let go of him and ran around to Hank’s other side. “You know how to box, Lee? I wanna bet I can take you down!”

           “You’re on!” Stanley laughed and ran to the closet.

 

          The next morning, Stanley woke in his bed, one foot propped on the wall and his head hanging over the edge. Nick slept under Stanley’s bed, a whole basket of treats hidden behind him like a dragon and his horde. Hank slept near the door, a pillow under his bed and a sheet as a blanket. Stanford didn’t wake up in his room. He yawned and looked about and then gasped in surprise. He was on his mattress on the roof. A sticky-note labeled “You fell asleep first! -Stanley” stuck to his forehead. Gompers baaed and woke up as well.

          He sighed. “How am I supposed to get this back down?” Gompers ate the note on his forehead. He chuckled and patted the one-horned goat’s head.

          Stanford decided on going back inside and downstairs. Dan wasn’t here yet. Grauntie Mabel flipped a pancake onto a plate. “Good morning, Ford! How’d you sleep this morning?”

           “This morning?” Ford echoed.

           “You boys were hollering well into the night,” Grauntie Mabel clarified and poured more batter onto the pan. “Where are the other boys? Still in your room?”

          Stanford shrugged. “They put my bed on the roof while I was sleeping.”

           “Were you the first one asleep?”

           “Yeah.”

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “You got off easy, then! When I was younger, first girl asleep got _the treatment_. At your age, most common was being drawn on. I remember we once drew the lyrics to every song we knew all over Grenda. She had songs on her for a good week! Oh, but the real fun begins when you’re the _last_ to sleep!”

           “The last?” Stanford echoed. “What do you get to do?”

           “Anything you want,” Grauntie Mabel replied with a lofty wave of her hand. “I was almost always the last one asleep. Once, I put everyone’s bras and underwear into a bucket and stuck it in the freezer. Solid block of ice by the morning!”

           “Ew, Grauntie!” Stanford laughed.

           “Watch your underclothes next time you have people sleep over,” Grauntie Mabel warned with a teasing smile.

          Eventually, Stanley shambled down the stairs. “I EAT SPRINKLES” was written on his forehead. Hank held Nick over his shoulder. Nick stubbornly clung onto his basket. Grauntie Mabel flipped the last pancake onto the serving plate and set it on the table. Stanford sat down by Grauntie Mabel. “You’re helping me get my bed off the roof, right?”

           “Your bed…?” Stanley echoed and then laughed. “Oh yeah! Ha! I’m surprised you didn’t wake up. Hank and I brought you up. I forgot what happened after that.”

           “Then you fell asleep,” Hank explained. “That’s when Nick broke out the markers.”

           “Markers? Ugh! You didn’t write anything on me, did you?” Stanley groaned. Grauntie Mabel put a few fingers to her mouth and shut her eyes before continuing with her meal.

          Nick bared his teeth in a great smile. “I fell asleep last!” He yawned and then grabbed a pancake. After he’d scarfed down most of his breakfast, his phone rang in his pocket. He jumped and picked it up immediately. “Hey, Mom! … Oh, yeah! We’re still at the Pines’ house. … Now? … _Ohmygoshwe’llberightthere!_ … Love you, too! Bye!” Nick shut off the phone and jumped up, a wide grin on his face. “Hank! My mom wants us home, like, now!”

           “Thank you for breakfast, Ms. Pines.” Hank stood up and picked up his plate. “Is there anything we can do to help clean up?”

           “Nah. You go home. I don’t want to keep your mom waiting.”

           “Thank you, again. See you later, Lee! Ford!” Hank waved and walked out. Nick hovered about him like an overstimulated helicopter toy holding something just light enough to let it get off the ground but too heavy to fly up very high.

          Stanford watched him go. “Why do you think Nicolas has so much energy?”

          Grauntie Mabel shrugged. “Some people are born with a thousand pounds of sugar in their veins. Okay, after breakfast, could you two help me clean up, please? And then bring Ford’s bed back to his room?”

          Stanford nodded, “Yes, Grauntie.”

          Stanley, as the look in Grauntie Mabel’s eyes betrayed the fact that she had not made a request, nodded as well. “Yes, Grauntie.”

 

          A few hours later, Stanley had completely washed the words from his forehead and Stanford’s bed was in its original place. Fiddleford and Dan came over for work. Dan mainly sat at the register with his phone and a magazine. Fiddleford looked over electronics in the house that he’d looked over a dozen times that week at least. However, since Fiddleford wasn’t one to go through one chore only, he looked about and cleaned off the occasional thing that Stanley missed when he was doing his chores.

          Stanford, Stanley, and Grauntie Mabel were in the living room watching Duck-tective when they heard a loud crash. Fiddleford ran into the living room. “I-I’m really, really sorry, Ms. Pines, but I, um- there’s a door! I found a door in the wall behind the bookcase!”

           “Behind the bookcase?” Grauntie Mabel stood up. “Why were you behind the bookcase?”

           “Well, I was cleaning something out behind the book case when I found it,” Fiddleford explained as he led them through the hallway. “And the bookcase fell over. This Shack is full of weird secrets.” They stopped in front of a relatively ornate wooden door. Most of it had been dusted off. They ignored the fallen bookcase beside it. Fiddleford opened the door and stepped back to allow them inside.

          The room itself was relatively spacey. Desks, drawers, old lamps, and papers decorated most of the room with what looked to be a couch, though it could double as a bed, in the shape of an L with a short bottom to one side. The floor was dominated by a sky-blue shag rug with a yellow border and circle design in the center. The entire place had a thick layer of dust. A door leading into a bathroom was to one side.

           “Whoa-oh…” Stanford looked at the calendar, which was set to July of 1982 with ‘4’ being circled. An old, dusty hat was on the bedside table.

          Farther into the room, Stanley blew the dust off a mirror in a picture frame and coughed when the dust blew back into his face. “Cool!”

          Fiddleford looked over the very old lamp with round eyes. “How old is this thing?” He tried turning it on. It didn’t do anything.

          Stanford knelt beside the rug and looked over the tag “Experiment seventy-eight? Grauntie Mabel, what is this place?”

          Grauntie Mabel hid the now folded hat in the shirt of her suit. “Just another room I’m going to have to clean out.”

          Stanley ran his fingers over the shag carpet. “This carpet is amazing!”

          Stanford looked over the carpet. _Experiment seventy-eight._ What is this “experiment”? What were all those papers on the desks?  “Grauntie Mabel? Can we stay in here a while?”

          Grauntie Mabel looked about the room. “Hmm… well, I don’t see why not! Just don’t hurt yourselves. Be careful, Fiddleford. Those lamps are probably very old.”

          Stanford smiled. “Thanks, Grauntie!”

           “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get any splinters!” With that, Grauntie Mabel left.

          Stanford looked down at the carpet. “Guys! This carpet is an experiment!” He flipped the tag over. “‘Electron Carpet’. Whoa, I wonder what it does.”

           “Only one way to find out!” Stanford took off his shoes and scooted in a circle around the carpet in the direction the arrows in the carpet pointed.

          Fiddleford tipped his head. “What are you doing?”

           “Electrons means electricity, right? They sound alike, anyway,” Stanley answered. “So, maybe this thing makes stuff happen when you make static electricity!”

          Stanford took out his notebook and pencil. “That sounds very plausible. Keep moving!” Stanford scribbled down the experiment and its description.

          Stanley cackled. “I feel like a I’m a lightning rod. I am the God of Lightning!” he cried and threw his arms up. He tripped over himself and grabbed Fiddleford’s arm to steady himself. There was a flash and a crackle of electricity and the two were on the ground.

           “Oh no!” Stanford ran to their side, notebook clutched in his hands. “Are you guys alright?”

          Fiddleford opened his eyes and put a hand to his head. “Yeah. Yeah I- wait, did you grow?”

          Stanley shook his head. “No.”

          Stanley opened his eyes and got onto his knees. Stanley shook his head and blinked his eyes. “Ugh! Ah can’t see that well! Ah’m blind! Oh my goodness!”

          Stanford put his hand on his brother’s wrist. “Whoa! Whoa. You’ve always had bad eyesight, remember?” Did the electron carpet make them forget?

          Fiddleford stared at them. “I can see… Ford.”

          Stanford looked back at him. “Yeah, Fidds?”

           “I’m not Fiddleford.” Fiddleford shook his head and looked down at his hands. “I-I think we just switched bodies.”

           “Wait, _what?!_ ” Stanley gasped and put a hand on his head. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no! Oooooh what is this?” His breaths came in wheezing gasps as he started to hyperventilate.

           “Calm down!” Stanford’s grip on Stanley’s wrist became tighter. “Just… this is _fascinating._ ” Stanford smiled and started scribbling something down in his notebook. “The static electric charge you gathered, Stanley, must have been so powerful it swapped electrons with the atoms in Fiddleford’s head and switched your minds. This is _amazing!_ Okay, okay, okay.” Stanford stood up and took a few steps back. “Take a few breaths, calm down.” The two boys stood up. Stanford had to keep himself from smiling. Fiddleford’s stance was loose and relaxed. He looked over his body with a raised eyebrow. Stanley was tense and he looked about with wide eyes. His hands balled into fists and his breath was heavier. “Now, Stanley–in Fidd’s body–how do you feel?”

          Fiddleford looked at his hands. “Tiny! No wonder you’re scared of everything, Fidds, you’re tiny! And so weak. Wow. Do you ever exercise?”

           “Yes,” Stanley defended. “Ah do!”

           “Doesn’t feel like it.”

          Stanford scribbled down everything Stanley in Fiddleford’s body said. “Okay, Fiddleford, how do you feel?”

           “Well, for one, blind,” Stanley stated. “But, uh, bigger. An’ sweaty and awkward. What the heck?”

          Fiddleford crossed his arms. “I’m twelve, dude. I guess I’m just maturin’ faster than you.”

          Stanley rubbed his eyes. “Do ya have any glasses? Yer eyesight really is terrible.”

          Stanford nodded. “He does. But I don’t think we should keep you in the same bodies for _that_ long.”

           “Can I have my body back?” Stanley requested. His heavy Tennessee accent lightened now that he wasn’t under so much stress.

          Stanford nodded. “Yes.”

          Fiddleford looked at the carpet. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” He took off his shoes and scooted across the floor in a circle again. This time, he started to reach for Stanley, but then changed at the last moment and hit Stanford’s hand.

          Stanford yelped and dropped what he was holding as a strong electric charge coursed through him. He shook himself and put a hand to his head. Well, he couldn’t feel his glasses beneath his fingers. But when he opened his eyes, he could see.

          Stanley in Stanford’s body puffed out his chest. “Ha-ha! …wow.” He stretched and opened and closed his hands. “Your hands feel weird.”

          Stanford in Fiddleford’s body nodded. “I’m not used to _five_ fingers. And good eyesight. You’re right! You really are small.” Fiddleford picked up Stanford’s notepad and pencil. “This is amazing! You’re still in your mind even though you’ve switched to a different person. I wonder if the chain can go on any longer.” Fiddleford quickly scribbled down how he himself felt and his theorized effects.

           “Okay, this is great an’ all, but can I have my body back? _Please?_ ” Stanley asked.

           “Yes, yes. Good.” Fiddleford scribbled down a few more things before handing the notebook and pencil to Stanley. “Hold this for me.” Stanford rubbed his feet in the carpet in the direction of the circle, but didn’t actually walk around. He set his hand on Stanley’s wrist.

          He could feel the electric shock run through him. Suddenly, he’d grown back to his original size. However, he still felt… different. Stanford, now in Stanley’s body, looked over himself. “Interesting. I still feel quite a bit like myself, but with a few key differences. Fiddleford? How do you feel?” Stanley looked up at Fiddleford.

          Fiddleford sighed. “Great! I don’t want to be rude, but I rather like my own body.”

          Stanford grinned. “Does it work for other animals?”

          Stanley nodded. “That is a good question. Cross-species mind switching. Now _that_ is something I’d like to witness. Stanley? Go grab Gompers, please.”

           “Why don’t you do it? He doesn’t like responding to me,” Stanley in Stanford’s body stated.

           “You’re in my body. For all intents and purposes, you _are_ me, if behaving differently. Just walk around a little bit and he’ll find you. You don’t even need to pick him up.” Stanley waved his hand in a dismissive manner and went back to writing.

          Stanford wrinkled his nose at him and walked outside. Hardly a minute later, Stanford was back. Gompers bounded about at his heels with a happy bleat. Stanley twirled his pencil. “Try switching bodies with him.” Stanford took off his shoes and rubbed his feet into the carpet. He knelt and held out his hand. Gompers bounded over to his hand and head-butted him.

          Gompers staggered back. “What? Whoa! I can talk!”

           “You can talk while still in a different animal’s body. _Fascinating._ ” Stanley flipped the notebook page and continued writing in the next one. “Absolutely amazing. Gompers? Can you understand me?”

          Stanford made a tiny, confused bleating noise.

           “No. Even in a human’s body, he can’t speak. How do you feel, Stanley?” Stanford prompted.

          Gompers bounced about, laughing. “This is awesome! I feel so good! Like, I can _fly!_ But, I can’t at the same time. Ha-ha! Parkour!” He jumped up, landed with all fours on the couch, and launched himself away. He bounded about the floor, laughing and jumping up and down from the couch. “Now I get why Gompers does it!”

          Stanley hurriedly scribbled down what Gompers said. “I’m going to see if I can switch with you, now.” Stanley set down his pad and scooted over to Gompers.

          Suddenly, he was different. Gompers shook his head and looked about. Everything was so _big!_ Indeed, he felt the energy of a young goat. He bounced about a few times and stamped his hooves. “That is so weird. Hmm… do you know what this experiment needs?” He baaed at Stanford and caused him to bounce forward. Stanford inadvertently rubbed his feet against the carpet and baaed. Gompers head-butted him.

          Then, Stanford was back in his own body. He immediately took his notepad and scribbled down his findings. “This is amazing. We should continue our experiment. Would anyone else tell the difference if we acted like each other? Grauntie Mabel could always tell which one of us was which, even when we traded clothes. So, what if we traded _bodies?_ Would she still tell us apart? Or would she see the subtle differences in our behavior and call us out on it? Hmm… I don’t like the idea of messing with this experiment before we know more about it. What if the change becomes permanent? What if it causes brain damage? Oh! What if the research on this carpet was _right there?_ ” Stanford looked at the papers piled up on a desk on the other side of the room. “This needs further exploring.”

           “Ugh. Boring,” Stanley groaned. “How about you two read up on that or whatever?”

          Stanford raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Stanley. You helped discover this with us.”

           “Yeah, well, I’m not a science nerd. I probably won’t understand it.” Stanley shrugged.

           “Don’t sell yourself short, Stanley.” Stanford shook his head. “But if you insist. Could you take over my chores then?”

          Stanley sighed. “Yeah, yeah. You nerds get on it. That next experiment sounds cool!”

 

          A few hours later, Fiddleford and Stanford had poured through a good portion of the stacked papers. Fiddleford had to pause as to ask his grandfather to stay over longer. A few pads of sticky notes sat between them. On occasion, they’d sticky-note important documents and reference a passage. Neither of them would dare mark the papers, though.

          Stanley burst into the room. “Hey, nerds! Dinner’s ready!”

          Stanford choked and dropped the pen he’d been chewing on. Fiddleford jumped and nearly knocked over a stack of papers. “What in the- Lee!”

           “Stanley!” Stanford complained and set his pen down. “At least knock first.”

           “I’m sorry,” Stanley put his hands on his hips and grinned. “-did I interrupt something?”

          Stanford scoffed, “I was nearly done with this passage.” Fiddleford went back to shuffling through the papers and tapping them into neat stacks.

           “Come on. Grauntie Mabel made spaghetti.” Stanley ran out of the room again.

          Stanford stood up and was nearly to the door when he realized Fiddleford wasn’t following. “You okay, Fidds? Don’t mind Stanley. He doesn’t mean anything personally.”

           “Huh? Oh! No, no! Ah’m fine.” Fiddleford got up and followed Stanford out.

          Indeed, Grauntie Mabel served spaghetti that night. Instead of long yellow noodles, they were small, thick, and curly but came in a whole different array of colors. “Like ’em?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “I found them at the store today and had to get them. They’re colorful! Don’t give me that face. They’re totally not poisoned.”

          Stanford glanced at the recycling bin. A package of “Vegetable Noodles” sat on the top. _You can turn vegetables into noodles?_ Although skeptical, Stanford sat down and ate, anyway. Strangely enough, the noodles didn’t _taste_ like vegetables. That was good.

          After dinner, Fiddleford and Stanford went straight back to work on the notes- as soon as they helped out Grauntie Mabel with dinner clean-up. Stanley was left to wander about on his own. In fact, when he prompted Grauntie Mabel if they could practice, she just shook her head. “Sorry, Sweet-pie. I’m a bit too tired. I should be heading for bed. Knock if you need anything.” With that, she walked off and shut herself in her room.

          Stanley sighed and wandered about the halls. When he peeked into the new room, Fiddleford and Stanford were deeply concentrated on what they were doing. Stanford spat out the ink from another broken pen. Fiddleford hardly noticed. Gompers slept peacefully on the couch-bed.

          Stanley made his way to the gift shop. Dan was long since gone. Waddles was probably in Grauntie Mabel’s room.

          Eventually, Stanley stalked upstairs and took out his Gamekid.

 

          In the carpet room, Fiddleford’s phone went off. “Hey, Grandad! … O’ course. Thank you. … I’ll be right there!” _Click._ He turned to Stanford. “I’ve got ta go, now. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

           “Bye, Fidds!” Stanford called after him as he left. He yawned and set down the papers he’d been working on. Soon enough, he walked to his own bed and fell asleep.

 

          The next day, Stanford ate breakfast and went straight back to the new room. Grauntie Mabel watched him go. “Is he always like this, Lee?”

          Stanley nodded. “Pretty much. Homework and reading documents an’ stuff is his thing.”

          Grauntie Mabel smiled and her green, cataracts dulled eyes gained a wistful, misty shine to them. “I remember a time like that.”

           “You were like that?”

          Grauntie Mabel shook her head and went to washing off the pancake-and-syrup plates. “No, but my brother was.”

          Stanley bit his tongue to keep from smiling. _Her brother. This is your chance, dude! She never talks about her brother!_ “Your brother? So, he was like Ford?” Stanley prompted.

          She nodded. “Mhm. Ford reminds me so much of him. How he gets so excited over the weirdest things. How he manages to sniff out trouble in the calmest of places. How he was teased for being a freak and his twin had to learn to toughen up because he wouldn’t.” Her smile left her. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Although the tap kept running and steaming water washed over her bare, soapy fingers, she didn’t seem to notice. “How he’s such a little brat at times, but such an angel in others.” She turned off the tap and, fingers still dripping despite a towel being in range, knelt down in front of Stanley. A sudden seriousness fell over her. Stanley stared at her, speechless. This woman… didn’t look like his great aunt. He couldn’t imagine her without an exaggerated expression of happiness or the rare frown of disappointment or even the naturally occurring look of shock and concern. A chill ran down his spine as he could only remember seeing such an expression on his father. “Stanley, I need you to promise me something. This is really, really important. So, I need you to listen to me. Understand?”

           “Yes, Grauntie.” Stanley kept his voice flat. Some weird emotion swelled up inside of him that he fought to keep down. It was foreign, strange. It wasn’t fear or indignance or even sadness. He knew all three of those emotions well.

           “Your brother is a gifted boy. He has the brains of a genius. But he has a fragile heart. No matter what he says or does or acts like, he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand like you or I.” She took Stanley’s hands in her own. He didn’t mind the rapidly cooling wetness on his hands- not even when the soap on her hands stung small scraps on his hands that he forgot he’d received. “I need you to protect your brother and I need you to be careful. When he screws something up for you, you get back on your feet. But if you screw something up for him, he has a hard time doing the same, doesn’t he?”

          Stanley hesitated and then nodded slowly. “Sometimes. But only on important things.”

           “Yep. I’m not saying to walk on egg shells around him, okay? I’m saying that he doesn’t understand mistakes like you do. You take a punch and you get back up. He takes a punch and he needs help up. If you make a mistake, take it up with him _immediately._ You’re the most wonderful brother in the world to him, you know that? I… I don’t want that to change or anyone to think that’s changed.” Stanley could see the beginning of tears in her eyes. She swallowed hard and smiled. “Okay? Promise you’ll do that? Even if it’s something like breaking a jar he really likes or spilling water on a good book.”

          Stanley nodded. “I promise.”

          Mabel smiled and chuckled. “You are such a good boy, Lee.” She stood up and turned back to the dishes. “I’m going to have to go to work in a few minutes. How about practice later?”

          Stanley perked up. “Sure!”

           “Hmm… how about you practice the last form I was teaching you before we get started on the day?”

           “You got it.” Stanley nodded and ran into the living room. Yet, even as he ran off, he couldn’t shake this feeling. Like a wool-covered boa constrictor that smelled of strawberries and spoke Latin, it not only confused and distracted him, but hurt him. Suddenly, he understood why Grauntie Mabel never spoke of her brother. Did she break something of his or ruined something and he ended up hating her? Stanley stopped in the living room and bit his tongue. Oh God, he hoped that didn’t happen to Stanford. What would he do if Stanford ever–

          Stanley shook the thought in an instant. _No._ He wasn’t going to think like that. Still, he found himself peeking into the new room. Stanford and Fiddleford looked over the papers. Stanford quietly chewed on a pen as he worked. Fiddleford stared down at his papers with a hawkish intensity. Neither of them seemed to notice him. Stanford spat as the pen in his mouth snapped and sent ink dribbling into his mouth and down his chin. Stanley muffled a laugh.

 

          Stanford got up and spat out the ink in his mouth in the mini bathroom connected to the room. As it only had a toilet and sink, he could hardly call it a bathroom. Still, he was able to wash his face and rinse out his mouth so that was all that really mattered. When he sat back down, he noticed Fiddleford hadn’t moved an inch. Was he aware that Stanford had gotten up or moved at all? Stanford shrugged it off and went back to reading a paper quite similar to most of the other ones he red- bills and prediction to future bills. Some calculations mixed into it as well as things neither of them could understand- yet. Stanford had a bit more trouble understanding mechanics and engineering. He could still do it, but it was more difficult. However, codes and theories were his forte. It was the other way around for Fiddleford. Fiddleford was a gifted mechanic and a huge math nerd while science and cryptology had never been his strongest suits. Together, Stanford realized, they were a perfect team.

          Stanford caught himself glancing at Fiddleford every so often. They would make the perfect team, wouldn’t they? He and Fiddleford could set the world on _fire_ \- figuratively speaking. What if this author was like Stanford or Fiddleford? Acute in one area, but slacking in another. Then the author had a partner who was terrific in one area and slacking in another. That’s how they got so much done. That’s how the author knew so much- _he wasn’t alone!_

          Stanford, buzzing with excitement, bit his tongue and picked up his notebook. He flipped over a page of calculations and notes and scribbled down his theories. As his pen scribbled feverishly across the paper, he didn’t see Fiddleford raise his head. Fiddleford, who’d just reached over to their shared stack of sticky notes, noticed his writing. Once Stanford had written down the just of what he was thinking and paused to look it over, Fiddleford prompted, “What’s that? Did you find something?”

           “I- yes, actually. But not in this room.” Stanford turned to him and, grinning ear to ear, held up his notebook. Fiddleford gently took it from him and started reading over it. “I think I know how the author knows so much and how he got so much done and how he made terrific things like this carpet- he had an equally gifted partner! Do you know what this means?!”

           “Yes!” Fiddleford gasped. “If he had a partner, that partner’d know what happened ta him!”

           “Yes! And they’d know about this journal!” Stanford took Journal Three from his jacket.

           “They’d know what happened ta those missin’ pages!”

           “We’d finally figure out the mysteries of this town!”

           “HA!” Fiddleford laughed. “This is amazin’! What made ya think of this?”

           “You!” Stanford blurted out before thinking over what he said. “You’re the most amazing mechanic I’ve seen. If the author had someone like you, it would all make sense!”

          Stanford could see the redness coming to Fiddleford’s cheeks. He stumbled over random syllables he was trying desperately to turn into words. Stanford was strongly reminded of an old car engine struggling to start. “An’ a partner like you- we’re unstoppable!”

          Stanford grinned and laughed. “Gosh! This is _amazing!_ ” In their excitement, they couldn’t see the door slightly ajar.

          Stanley’s amused smile faded. Then, eyebrows contracted and hands in his pockets, he stalked off.

           “Not ta mention yer brother,” Fiddleford agreed, too late to be overheard.

           “Haha! Stanley doesn’t know what fear is,” Stanford agreed. “Gosh, I don’t think I’d have recorded half the monsters I met without him stumbling into them.”

           “Or gotten away as quick,” Fiddleford agreed. “That reminds me, we’re spendin’ a lot of time here.”

           “Oh yeah.” Stanford looked back at his notebook. “You think he’s bored, right? Yeah, probably. Still, we should finish this up. “There’s a band rolling into town soon he might like.”

           “Sev’ral Timez?”

          Stanford nodded. “Mhm. Boy bands are silly, but I guess he might like it. If not, I’m sure we’ll find _some_ way else to get in trouble.”

          Fiddleford chuckled and picked up a sticky note. “He’s funny that way.”

 

          Stanley was in his bed before Stanford that night. Stanford, mentally exhausted, strolled into the bedroom. When he noticed Stanley laying in his bed rather than jumping about, Stanford stopped in the middle of the room. “What’s wrong?”

           “Huh?” Stanley looked back at him. “What do ya mean?”

           “You never go to bed this early,” Stanford pointed out.

           “Eh. I’m tired.” Stanley shrugged and closed his eyes. Stanford set his notebook down on his dresser and crossed his arms. “Stanley, I know you better than that. What happened?”

           “Nothin’,” Stanley answered. “Absolutely _nothin’_.”

          Stanford tipped his head. “What does that mean?”

          Stanley let out an irritated sigh and sat up. “It means that you’re stuck up in that room all day with those papers and Fiddleford.”

           “Look, I don’t want to play with that carpet,” Stanford denied with a shake of his head. “It could do anything! It could be really, really dangerous. Besides, you said you didn’t want to look over the paperwork with us.”

           “Yeah, I know.” Stanley lost his irritation.

           “It’s not about the paperwork, is it?” Stanford guessed. Stanley didn’t answer. “Is it because Fiddleford and I spend a lot of time together?” Stanley squirmed in his seat but didn’t answer. “He’s our friend, Stanley! Besides, he likes the same type of things I do. You don’t really like sitting down and working.”

           “Yeah, I know,” Stanley huffed. “He’s also way smarter than me and you guys have lots more fun. That’s why he’s your partner or whatever, right?”

          Stanford stared at him. Partner? “What do you mean?”

           “I mean, you guys were talkin’ about the author and how he must have been amazing with this amazing partner like you two. I’m just… I’m not a scientist or a robot builder or an’thing special like that.

          Stanford set his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Come on, bro! If you’re going to listen in on our conversations, you may as well hear the whole story. Fidds is our friend, but you’re my brother. You’re my partner in crime, remember? Mystery Twins?” He held up a fist.

          A smile crept up on Stanley’s features. “Mystery Twins.” They fist-bumped and laughed.

 

9-6 20- **23** -9-14-19 3-1-14’-20 21-19-5 6-1-3-5 19-23-1-16, 8-15-23 3-1-14 19-23-9-20-3-8-9-14-7 2-15-4-9-5-19 2-5 19-15 4-9-6-6-5-18-5-14-20?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one's moving, I swear! Also, _a_ I thought that Nick would be pretty interested in Stanford's hands. In a town as _is_ strange as Gravity Falls, I highly doubt its citizens would shy from something like Stanford's condition. Besides, people in New Jersey know that teasing Stanford _one_ means getting their noses bloodied. The citizens of Gravity Falls... haven't learned this yet.  
>  Fiddleford and Stanford _z_ are born friends, this much is obvious. It's canon that they become partners, so why not start off early? It's also noted that Stanley doesn't get jealous of Stanford. He _is_ gets angry with people around him, but not really his brother. So _twenty-six_ becoming a sort of third wheel would probably make him mad at Fiddleford, but a bit mad at Stanford for "replacing" him.


	17. Boyz Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The famous boy band, Sev'ral Timez, has rolled into town! Janice's attitude may as well have its own bus. When presented with the opportunity of sabotage, will the twins rise above the petty nature of their quarrel with Janice or will things go for the worse?

          Sunshine, pure and hot, fell over the pine forest valley. It glowed over sidewalks, glinted off metal, and filtered in through windows. Waddles, deep in a piggy sleep, sunbathed in the gentle rays. Gompers bleated and bounced about him. Waddles didn’t wake, despite having the baby goat jumping on and off him.

          Outside, Fiddleford showed off the modifications he made to the Mystery Cart to Stanford.

          Inside, Stanley strolled into the kitchen, hands in his pockets, and shoeless feet silent on the old linoleum. His dark gaze flicked to both entrances, the open window, and then the fridge. It clicked upon being opened and whirred as the chill inside spilled out. He gently lifted the paper over the plate of cookies, snuck a few small ones from under the pile, and then wrapped the paper up nice and neat. Stanley shut the door and turned around, a wide grin on his features as he looked down on the half dozen pilfered treats. When he looked up to leave, he came face-to-face with their great aunt.

          He yelled and jumped, though he kept a firm grip on the confections. “Uh-uh! H-hey, Grauntie Mabel!” He hid the cookies behind his back and smiled.

           “Well, hello there, Lee!” Grauntie Mabel greeted. “You look awfully suspicious today.”

           “Do I? Pfft. Don’t know why,” Stanley chuckled and shrugged.

           “Maybe it’s those cookies behind your back?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “Those’ll sell you out.”

           “Pssssh- what? I… I, okay.” He brought the cookies out from behind his back and gave them back to his great aunt.

          Grauntie Mabel pulled out the rest of the paper-covered cookies and reunited the stolen ones. She put them away and shut the door. Stanley glanced back at the exit to the living room. On the kitchen table, he spotted a few bags of groceries yet to put away. He turned back to her. “So, Lee, what do your parents normally do when they catch you stealing cookies?” Her voice didn’t hold the same cheery optimism it usually had, but it was not heavy or hard in anger, either.

          Stanley shrugged. “I don’t know. Uh, give me chores or ground me or whatever.”

          Grauntie Mabel clicked her tongue as she took out a few baking instruments from the cabinets. “And how well has that worked out?”

           “…not well.”

           “Hmm. Guess we’ll just have to try something different.” Grauntie Mabel put on her baking apron and turned to Stanley. “You can go if you want.”

           “What?” Stanley attempted to say something after that, but words refused to be formed.

           “I mean: you can go play if you want. Just don’t go taking the cookies again, please. What were you expecting?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

           “Um… to be grounded, I guess, or given chores?”

           “And you were willing to do the dishes for the rest of the week for a couple of cookies? I mean, I know my food is absolutely irresistible, but come on.” Grauntie Mabel plucked a bowl and a few spoons out of their respective cabinets. “But I know what happens. You break a rule, I or your parents punish you, you fill out the punishment and go sulk a bit, and then you go at it again. It’s needlessly boring. So, I’ll ask you not to do it again. Say, did I tell you why I was baking these?” Grauntie Mabel laid out the last of what she needed–a baking sheet–and looked back at him.

          Stanley shook his head. “No.”

           “Grenda’s son-in-law is throwing a party for his kids. He asked if I could make some cookies to go with it, so I agreed. I just need _a few_ more batches to complete it. I ran out of sugar, so I had to go to the store. Actually, I could use a bit of help here, if you want.”

           “Uh, me?” Stanley tipped his head. “I, uh… I’m not a good cook. I don’t cook things.”

           “Well why not?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          Stanley shrugged. “I… break things.”

           “Posh! You’re twelve now, Lee- almost a teen! You can handle some plastic spoons and bowls. How about this: if you break something on accident, I’ll say it was my fault. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, you know.” Grauntie Mabel took the milk out of the fridge.

          Stanley shuffled his feet and then sighed and started taking out things from the grocery bags. “Okay, okay.”

          Grauntie Mabel grinned. “Oh, good! Wash your hands, Stanley, we’re going to bake like no one has ever baked before!”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

          Stanford, now holding Gompers, looked over the cart. “It looks good. You said you fixed the engine?”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Mhm! I fixed up the engine. Now it’ll go faster _and_ won’t use up as much gas doin’ it.”

           “Did you get rid of the racoons?” Stanford prompted.

          Fiddleford shrugged and leveled a hand. “Not exactly. Now, c’mon, Stanford, those little guys have ta live somewhere!”

           “ _Ugh!_ Fidds, I already told you that we can’t have any more racoons living here!” Stanford complained. “They’re _going_ to go after Gompers.”

           “Now, raccoons don’t eat goats!” Fiddleford scolded. “Don’t go makin’ assumptions about them.”

           “Oh, yeah? Well, Gompers is a baby goat. Raccoons eat meat, don’t they?” Stanford countered.

          Fiddleford clicked his tongue. “You don’t know anythin’ about the critters here, do ya?”

           “I do!”

           “Hey Short-stack, Goat boy.” The two squabbling boys looked up to see Janice nearby. “What are you two dorks fighting over?”

          Fiddleford gained a hurt pout. Stanford glared at her. “Why does it matter to you?”

           “Nothing. Watching you two fight is hilarious.” Janice laughed and then rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Either of you two dweebs seen Dan?”

          Stanford shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s probably at work, like he’s supposed to be. Why? Did you forget about that, too?”

          Janice’s uncaring, half-smirk turned into an annoyed grimace. Within a second she was face-to-face with Stanford. Here arms were crossed, eyes narrowed, and she was bent over so that she was eye level with him. Stanford dropped Gompers in shock and flinched. “And what’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

          Stanford tried to glare at her. However, as he looked into her brackish eyes, he could see the mirror reflection of the teal ones Stanford would be forced to look back into in New Jersey- the ones he had to see before either getting the stuffing beat out of him or taunted mercilessly and left to be hung by his jacket somewhere. As the memory of physical pain and deathly fear washed away his anger like a doll in a hurricane, he recoiled and took a step back.

           “Well?” Her annoyed grimace turned into a grim smirk as she watched the trembling boy. “What are you gunna do, huh? Cry?” He flinched and shut his eyes.

          Fiddleford took Stanford by the hand. He glared at her. “Now you listen here! Stanford hasn’t done a thing wrong to ya!”

          Janice laughed and shoved her hands in her pocket. “Gosh, I should come here more often. You two are hilarious. Now, fun as this is, I’ve got stuff to do.” She grabbed her music box and started to walk off, but hesitated. “If you see your brother around, tell him to stay out of our business, got it?”

          The two watched her go inside. Stanford, now that he was no longer under her glare, straightened himself out and fought back his previous fear. He wrinkled his nose and stalked to the entrance of the Mystery Shack. Fiddleford gasped and put a hand on his shoulder. “Stanford! What are ya doin’?”

          Stanford turned to him and gestured to the door. “Stanley was right! I can’t let Dan date that maniac!”

           “Look, Ford, Ah agree with ya, but let’s not be hasty,” Fiddleford held up his other hand. “We shouldn’t go messin’ with his love life.”

          Stanford grumbled and crossed his arms. “I know that. But we can’t just let her walk all over everyone! She knows that being with Dan means that she can pick on us and we can’t do anything about it. She knows that if _Stanley_ found out she was bullyin’ us, he’d knock her flat. Then Dan would have to choose between the two and who would choose a kid over their own girlfriend?”

          Fiddleford bit his tongue. “Ah’m sorry, Stanford, Ah really am. But Ah don’t know how you’d tell Dan without him thinkin’ we’re just jealous. He _knows_ Stanley is jealous of Janice, anyone can tell. What if we start actin’ like him?”

           “Then he wouldn’t listen to either of us,” Stanford agreed and growled. “Ugh! Why do girls like her have to be so conniving? There has to be something we can do!” The two looked into the window of the gift shop.

          Janice strolled over to where Dan was working. Dan, who’d just let a young customer go with a “Have a good day!” turned to Janice. However, his plastic smile deteriorated as soon as he saw her.

           “Hey, Dan!” Janice greeted. “Nate and his girlfriend are going to look-out point tonight. I was wondering if we should go, too.”

          Dan’s nose wrinkled as if Janice had just offered him a plate of unrefrigerated ham from Christmas Dinner. “Ugh! Really? You stood me up last night and instead of apologizing, you want me to go to Look-out Point with you?” He sighed. “Look, Janice. This isn’t working out.”

           “Oh! Hey, let’s not get hasty!” Janice shook her head and then glanced at her music box. “Before you do anything crazy… I wrote this song just for you.” She took out a disk from her hoodie. “I hope this works,” she breathed and played it. A small beat started playing. _“When I think about you, I start feelin’ so deep. I’m tossin’ and turnin’ and you know I’m losing sleep.”_ As she sang she smiled and even danced to the simple tune. _“You know I’m going crazy when I look into your eyes. Just listen to this song and you’ll be hyp-no-ti-ized!”_ Dan’s irritation lifted and he stared at her in shock.

          He rubbed his eyes and smiled. “You know… maybe I was being hasty.” Janice’s smile widened. “I’ll give you another chance. Hang on, let me go get my jacket.” He tipped her had to the “EMPLOYEES ONLY” door and left.

          Stanford and Fiddleford stared at the scene in shock. Janice smirked at the two boys she knew had been watching and then brushed her hair behind her ear. “It’s called _romance._ Something you would never understand.”

          Stanford’s fingers curled into the wood. He started to reciprocate when Dan came back, now donned in his fur-lined jacket. “Heh. I can’t believe you wrote that for me.”

           “Yeah, I’m just really talented,” Janice agreed and, one arm in his, walked out the front door.

          Stanford watched them go. “That was definitely weird. You saw that, right?”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Somethin’ strange is happening with them.”

          Stanford ran inside and grabbed the disk from the music box. Fiddleford stopped by him and looked over the midnight black disk. “Strange. Do ya think it’s magic or somethin’?”

          Stanford inspected it and nodded. “Mhm. Definitely. Or cursed. But definitely not a CD.”

           “Do ya want to ask Lee?”

           “Definitely.”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

          Stanley, a rather large bowl in his hands, stirred the sugary, liquid-y dough in the bowl. He held up the bowl, revealing the powder blue apron covered in off-white splotches and dusted white. “How’s the oven doin’?” _“Sev’ral Timez”_ played over the radio.

          Grauntie Mabel, her own ruffled pink apron coated in flour, checked the oven. The cookies still sizzled and glistened. “Ah, a few minutes on these ones, Co-Captain!” She shut the door and returned to the sink. “How’s the next batch goin’?”

          Stanley shrugged. “Meh. Too watery. And it needs more chocolate.”

           “More chocolate?” Grauntie Mabel prompted, “We just used the last of it!”

           “Well then we need to get more!” Stanley announced and held up a spoon as if wielding a sword.

          Grauntie Mabel chuckled and waved her hand. “Put ‘em in the fridge, Co-Captain. We’ll see if they’ll mark up!”

          Stanley hopped over to the fridge and stuck the bowl inside. The spoon couldn’t fit, so he had to tap away most of the dough into the bowl and then take it back. He looked at the spoon. “Permission to lick the spoon?”

           “Permission is hereby granted,” Grauntie Mabel declared. Stanley happily licked the glittery dough off the end of the instrument. She washed off her doughy hands. In the doorway, Stanford watched them work. Fiddleford was nearby as well. The oven rang.

           “She rings!” Grauntie Mabel cried. “To the oven!”

           “Hya!” Stanley agreed and ran with her to the oven.

          Grauntie Mabel put on oven mitts and picked out the thoroughly cooked, small cookies and set them on the stovetop. “Hmm… lookin’ good to me. What say you?”

          Stanley put a finger to his smudged face and then nodded. “Hmm… how do we _know_ they’re good? We need to try a few.”

          Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Good point. Good point. Counter-point: how will anyone else know they’re good if we eat them?”

          Stanley shrugged. “Hmm… well, they’re too hot, anyway.”

           “That they are!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “Grab the next baking sheet! The end is nigh!”

           “Nigh!” Stanley took the baking sheet out of the sink, which had been soaking in soapy water, and rinsed it off with water and a clean sponge.

          Grauntie Mabel leaned over his shoulder. “You done yet?” Stanley sprayed water in her face, causing her to back off and laugh. “Okay, okay!” She wiped her face, which only smudged it further with water and dry ingredients. She pulled the bowl of cookie dough out and set it on the counter. “Hurry! The oven needs to be full.”

          Stanley grabbed a spoon and ran around to her other side. He grabbed the bowl and then looked back at the two boys. He nearly dropped his bowl. Fiddleford took a step back with a polite smile. Stanford, grinning, waved. “Nice cooking, Stanley!”

           “It is!” Grauntie Mabel agreed and looked back at them. “Stanley’s a wonderful baker! For someone who says he doesn’t do well, he’s amazing at it!”

           “Mhm. Mom said he’s the best helper.”

          Stanley’s cheeks turned a hot shade of pink. He rolled his eyes and turned away with a grumble. “Yeah, whatever.”

          Grauntie Mabel looked down at him. Without sparing a glance back, she tapped the cookie sheet and then bent down as if to take the spoon away from him. “Ten points if you get his face.” She straightened up and looked away from him.

          Stanley looked up at her. He glared back and then, quicker than he thought possible, he scooped up a chunk of chilled, slightly runny dough, pulled the spoon back with one finger, and aimed.

          Stanford spat as a glob of dough splattered over his face. “Okay, okay! Never mind!”

          Stanley laughed and fist-bumped Grauntie Mabel. Stanford ran off. Fiddleford, a hand over his face, was not too far behind. Grauntie Mabel set a hand on the lip of the cookie sheet so it wouldn’t move as Stanley loaded it up. “Don’t let anyone tease you for doing something you are good at- and especially things that you like, okay?”

          Stanley measured out two inches with his knuckle and set down another spoonful of dough. “Thanks, Grauntie. But… cookin’s for girls.”

           “Now why would you think that?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “You don’t need to be a girl to cook. In fact, there are plenty of cooks that are men and you’re probably better than many girls I’ve met. Besides, if you like something, being a girl or a boy doesn’t matter. Love is love, Lee!” She stepped back and opened the oven as Stanley filled up the last of the baking sheet. She shut the oven as soon as the cookies were inside. “Now… hmm… looks like we have some dough left. What do you suppose we do with it?”

           “Eat it!” Stanley announced and scraped up a spoonful.

           “Genius plan, Co-Captain!”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

          Stanford wiped the cookie dough off his glasses in the sink of the new room with the stati electric carpet. “That did not go as planned. We might have to wait until they’re done baking.”

           “Or ya shouldn’t tease your brother when we need him,” Fiddleford pointed out.

           “I couldn’t resist!” Stanford defended himself and dried off his glasses on his shirt. “Well, we could try going to lookout point by ourselves. We’d need evidence, though.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. How’d we prove there’s somethin’ wrong with the disk?”

           “We could try slowing it down,” Stanford offered. “We would need an editing program for that, though… or Grauntie Mabel’s old record player. We could always turn this into a record and play it backwards!”

          Fiddleford gave a slow nod. “As long as ya don’t damage it, that could work.”

           “I’m the most careful person I know,” Stanford scoffed. “I can get this into a record in no time at all.”

 

          Stanley put the last of the dishes, the empty bowl of dough, in the sink. Grauntie Mabel, her plate of glittery cookies wrapped up, walked out of the kitchen. “I’m going to deliver these to Grenda’s kid’s place, now. Why don’t you stay here and mess around or something? Unless you’d like to come with me?”

           “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

           “Don’t get into any trouble, now!” Grauntie Mabel opened and then closed the back door with her foot.

          Stanford turned off the radio, which cut off a _“Sev’ral Timez”_ song. He looked at the backdoor. Grauntie Mabel had done so much for them. They hardly did anything back. Stanley ticked his nails on the counter. There had to be something he could do.

          Stanley’s eyes fell on a magazine on the table. A picture of the boy band that was rolling into town showed face up. A smile crept up on his features. Suddenly, he knew what he was going to do. Stanley picked up the magazine and started to run into the living room to find his brother. He stopped himself. He was probably off doing something with Fiddleford. Besides, he highly doubted Stanford would want to go on a mission to get tickets to a concert for a boy band. He looked down at the magazine and then nodded.

 

           “Thanks for comin’ with me.” Stanley walked to the throng of people by the civic center.

          Nick, his eyes bright and smile broad, walked behind him. He held a Sev’ral Timez mini flag and shirt. “Dude, I wouldn’t miss this for anything!”

          Hank, his hands in his pockets, followed. “My sister really loves this band, too. I think she already got tickets, though.”

           “Well, since we’re only lookin’ for two or whatever, I’m sure that we’ll be fine. Dude, Grauntie Mabel will be so shocked.” Stanley led them to the ticket stand. “Two tickets, please!”

           “Sorry, little dude.” The teen at the ticket stand grabbed the shutters above the window in his stand. “Sev’ral Timez is sold out!” The shutters shut.

           “ _What?!_ ” the three boys looked about. Every reference to Sev’ral Timez was covered by a “SOLD OUT” sign.

          Nick tipped his head back and groaned. “Uuuuuugh! Just our _luck!”_

          Hank shook his head. “Eh. Boy bands are fake, anyway. Besides, we can always watch their concert on the internet probably a few minutes after it ends.”

           “It’s not the same,” Nick grumbled.

          Stan stamped his foot. “Nope! I said we’d see the band and I meant it.” His gaze turned to a “KEEP OUT” sign by the back door. “And I’m not letting a keep out sign keep us out!”

 

          Back at the Mystery Shack, Grauntie Mabel had a few boxes of canned meat. She took out each can individually and stuck them in the pantry. “Stockin’ meat for the apocalypse, doodly-doo,” she sang under her breath as she continued the menial task.

          Stanford and Fiddleford walked through the kitchen just then, the disk in Stanford’s hands.

           “Heya, Fords!” She greeted. “Wow, looks like you two are concentrating. What’s up?”

           “Huh? Oh. Eeeeeeh I don’t think you’d believe us,” Stanford admitted.

           “Try me.” Grauntie Mabel leaned on the counter, arms crossed. “You’d be surprised how much I understand.”

           “Okay. We think Janice is brainwashing Dan with music.” Stanford held up the CD.

          Grauntie Mabel huffed. “Oh no, I believe you. Heh. Music entrances girls, but guys, too. I didn’t know that when I was young. It’s how I lost my fiancé. It’s all fun and games until some bbbbbbboy-band lovin’ girl comes in with her new guitar and fancy music. Next thing you know he’s off on a tour bus across the country and forgot what your name was! _Ugh._ ” She glanced down at the can she was holding, which was now dented. “Hehe. Cool!” She continued putting away cans. “So, you got proof, did you?”

           “Yep!” Stanford held up the disk. “We’re going to slow it down and see if that works. We were wondering if we could use your record player.”

           “Oh, go ahead!” Grauntie Mabel waved her hand. “Tell me how it goes! Settle this like the little detectives you are!”

 

          Within the civic center, Sev’ral Timez stood on stage. The bright lights reflected off their white and pink clothes and made their platinum blonde hair glow. The crowd screamed and jumped and held up signs and posters. As their song had come to an end, Deep Chris sat on a stool in the spotlight. “Hey, girl. I just wanna get real for a moment.” His white and pink fedora cast a small shade over his head. “And say that, while we love bein’ superstars, the real reason we do this… is for you.” He pointed into the crowd. “For you specifically. Not the girl sitting next to you, but you.”

          From the crowd, just behind a metal gate, one of Preston and Pricilla’s friends whooped. “I love you Deep Chris!” she shouted.

          Her red-head friend glared at her. “He was talking to me!” She picked up a foldable plastic chair and threw it at the brunette. The crowd around them jumped into a fighting frenzy. Tyler stood up. “Get ’em! Get ’em!”

          Creggy G. yelled, “Thank you, good night!”

 

          Outside, Stanley easily picked the lock to the backdoor and pushed it open.

          Nicolas looked about as they entered. “Hello! Sev’ral Timez!”

          Hank looked to his friend. “Nick! If you yell, you’re going to attract security guards!”

          Stanley gasped and pointed to the far end of the cluttered room. “Look!” A door with a star labeled “SEV’RAL TIMEZ” was at the end of the room. The trio ran to the partially opened dressing room door. “This is it! Remember, guys: stay cool. We don’t need security getting all up in our business.” He plucked a few glittery smoke bombs from his pocket. “I have a Plan B, but let’s not use it.”

          Nick put a hand to his head in salute. “You got it, Lee!”

           “We’ll be careful,” Hank agreed.

           “Good. Follow my lead.” Stanley opened the door completely and stepped inside. He brushed past a rack of clothes and opened his mouth to speak. All that came out was a gasp. Nick dropped his “Sev’ral Timez” flag. Hank stared at the scene ahead with an open mouth.

          The left wall of the room was dominated by a techy wall with five green-liquid filled, bubbly tubes. A lightbulb lit the top of each. Within each tube was a _person._ The oldest was an adult of the band’s age. They got steadily younger until the fifth one, which was a fetus. They were all in a fetal position connected to the machine with an umbilical cord. Above the tubes was a metal paneled labeled “CLONING TUBES”. A science-y board of buttons, panels, and a screen was connected to it.

          Dominating the room was the largest hamster cage any of them had ever seen- in real life or on the internet. The five band members of Sev’ral Timez were within it. One member ran on the red wheel. Another two climbed through a tube, laughing and chasing each other. One drank water from a hamster watering tube as big as Grauntie Mabel. The fifth stayed on the hay-flecked “ground” of the cage on the other side of the tubes.

          Once all five of the band members were together, Chubby Z. announced, “Yo, we’re clones, dawg!”

          Hank stared at the scene. “Oh…”

           “My…” Nick wheezed.

           “Gosh,” Stanley finished. “That is one big hamster tube.” He bristled as footsteps could be heard outside. “Someone’s coming!” The three hid in a rack of clothes not too far away.

          A portly, bald man stalked into the room. He waved his golden cane and yelled in a rumbling, scratchy voice, “Terrible show! What is _wrong_ with you boys? You barely even sold out the arena! And Deep Chris: do you call that a pout?” As he spoke, he bared a tooth that had been replaced with gold.

          Deep Chris pouted and whimpered, his bottom lip trembling.

          Their producer, Ergman Bratsman, stopped before them. The boy band stood in a line before him, heads down. Ergman scratched is back with a gold record. “Every one of you should be ashamed of yourselves! Except for you, Leggy P. You were really on point tonight. Here ya go, gorgeous.” He chucked what looked like a cork big enough for Nicolas to squeeze inside at Leggy P., who immediately started eating it. When Deep Chris reached for it, Leggy P. hissed. “As for the rest of you, remember: you can always be replaced by your brothers.”

          Ergman pointed to the preteen clone in the tube. “Dance for me, child, DANCE!” The clone did as he was ordered. He put his hands on his knees and, after switching his hands from knee to knee, held out one arm and clapped his hand like a duck honking. The producer laughed and then coughed violently. “Augh, my throat is _killin’_ me. Can someone get me a lemon water?” He slammed the door shut behind him.

          Stanley, Hank, and Nicolas fell out from behind the clothes rack.

          Deep Chris’ gaze snapped to them. “Who goes there? Prepare to be danced at!” He, with a light scowl, danced to the edge of his cage where Stanley was. Stanley jumped up and instinctually set one foot behind him in the beginning of a fighting stance.

           “Whoa!” Creggy G. crouched in front of Stanley, his back to the boy. “Step off, Deep Chris! He’s a kid. Don’t disrespect him, bro. Don’t disrespect.”

          Deep Chris held up his hand. “My bad.” He turned to Chubby Z. “Chubby Z., let’s calm this boy down, posing for him poster style.” The band posed together, smiling and holding their hands up or, in Creggy G.’s case, lay on the floor.

          Stanley looked back at his friends and then back at them. “Ah, this is cool and all, but what’s with that dude that just walked out?”

          Deep Chris answered, “Mr. Bratsman’s our producer, yo.”

          Creggy G. stood up. “He genetically engineered us to be the perfect boy band, G.”

          Chubby Z. burst out, “But he keeps us locked in cages! It’s straight brutal, dude!”

          Stanley nodded. “That _is_ straight brutal.”

          Creggy G. smiled. “Our one dream is to escape into the real world. For real. Yo, I heard tell ’bout these things called “trees”. I dunno what they are, but I wanna kiss one!”

          Greggy C.’s smile left him. “But we can’t disobey Mr. Bratsman. He says he loves us.”

          Stanley huffed, “If he loved you, he’d let you go!”

          The band members looked at each other and nodded. “That’s true.” “Yeah, yeah.” “Makes sense.” “True dat, true dat.”

          Chubby Z. agreed, “That’s a valid perspective!”

          Stanley picked the large lock on their cage in seconds. “Let’s go right now. Me and my friends can help you escape!”

          Nick nodded. “We’re the absolute _masters_ of STEALTH!” Hank gave him a sideways glance. Nick shrugged and grinned.

          Chubby Z. stared at him. “Yo, you’d really do that for us, beef?”

           “You can count on me!” Stanley proclaimed.

 

          Night had fallen over the Mystery Shack. Grauntie Mabel, now holding a soda, sat in the table opposite of Stanford and Fiddleford. “You see, boys, music has subliminal messages in it all the time. You just gotta slow down the record and listen for it.”

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, yeah. We still need to finish converting that CD to a record. But when we do, it’s ours!”

          The door opened. They turned around to see Stanley, Hank, and Nicolas struggling with a large duffle bag.

          Stanford raised an eyebrow. “Uh, hey. How was the trip and what’s in that bag?”

           “Money!” Stanley answered immediately. “That we stole!”

           “We are criminals!” Nicolas agreed. “We’ll cut you!”

           “Let’s go away from here, now!” Stanley announced and dragged the bag upstairs.

          Fiddleford watched them go. “Uh… your brother’s not normally like this, is he?”

           “Nope,” Stanford answered. “…kind of.”

           “I wonder what’s going on with them,” Grauntie Mabel scoffed. “Better not have actually robbed a bank.”

           “What else would they be carrying?” Stanford scoffed. “The entirety of the ‘Sev’ral Timez’ band?”

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “Just my luck if it was!”

 

          Upstairs, Stanley unzipped the duffle bag in their room. The band members fell out of the bag and onto the ground in a huff. Only Deep Chris seemed to fall in grace as he posed. The group stood up and wandered about the room. Leggy P. looked about. “Your tour bus is really strange, Stanley boy. Where the feedin’ tubes at?”

          Deep Chris patted Waddles on the head. “Yo, what up, girl?” Waddles oinked in response.

          Creggy G. turned to Stanley, who had been smiling. “So, when do we get to go outside?”

          Chubby Z. nodded. “I wanna cavort like a woodland creature!”

          Outside, a car screeched to a halt. Stanley raced to the window and looked out in the night. He gasped and looked back. “It’s your producer!”

          The band members gasped and, after a bit of mad scrambling, dove under Stanley’s bed to hide.

          Bratsman stepped out of his black limo. “I can’t believe those boys escaped from their cage,” he grumbled. His gaze snapped to Fiddleford, who’d left the Shack to investigate the noise. “You there!” He held up a clump of white hair. “I found this trail of frosted tips leading to this very location. Have you seen any perfect boys around here?”

           “‘Perfect boys’?” Fiddleford echoed. “Uh… no?”

           “Erg! They must be around here somewhere! I’ll find those boys if I have to turn this town upside down!” the man snapped. Fiddleford shrank away from his irritated ranting.

          Gompers bleated and chewed on the green rare license plate labeled “BIG MONEY”.

           “Shoo! Shoo!” Bratsman waved his cane at Gompers. The young goat bleated at him and took a few steps back. “Ehhh.” With that, he climbed into his limousine. He glared at Fiddleford as he rolled up the window and the limo rolled off.

          Fiddleford looked down at Gompers, who had the license plate in his mouth. “Heh. Good kid, Gompers.”

 

           “So, it’s not safe out there,” Stanley deduced and turned back to the band. “And it’s getting pretty late.”

          Chubby Z. gasped, “What do we do?”

           “Aw, dang!” Deep Chris looked about.

          Greggy C. complained, “I’m scared, Stanley!”

          Stanley smirked and held up his hands. “Aw don’t worry. He’ll have to give up eventually. Hey! In the meantime, you guys can stay here!”

          The boy band cheered. Chubby Z. exclaimed. “Aw right, twenty-thirteen!”

          Stanley turned to his friends. “Do you know what this means? We have a boy band we can do whatever we want with!”

          Nick looked over at them with wide eyes. Hank raised an eyebrow. “Ah, you know we’re going to let them go eventually, right?”

           “Well, dang.” Stanley scoffed. “I was thinkin’ of keeping them here until maybe tomorrow afternoon, at earliest, and giving Grauntie Mabel a surprise at lunch! Or after dinner!”

          Hank nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good, I guess. But these guys probably haven’t been outside their cage before. We’ll need to teach them how to behave. I mean, Creggy C. just talked about feeding tubes in a tour bus!”

           “Leggy P.,” Nick corrected.

           “Uh, yeah.”

           “In the morning,” Stanley decided with a wave of his hand.

 

          Nick and Hank came back the next night. Sev’ral Timez came out of the extra room in the attic, as they’d been sleeping there. For the rest of the day, they helped Stanley teach Sev’ral Timez how to live as humans rather than clones. All the while, they stayed out of sight of Grauntie Mabel, Fiddleford, and Stanford. Though, it was difficult as they seemed to love to make noise and didn’t know how to drink water out of a cup so water spilled everywhere.

          The clones hid in the closet in the hall as Grauntie Mabel walked into the kitchen. Stanley, Hank, and Nicolas stood in the kitchen. A few cups of water had spilled on the floor and table. Hank grinned. “We’ll clean it up.”

          Grauntie Mabel looked them over. “I… am not even going to ask.” With that, she walked off.

 

          Meanwhile, Stanford focused on turning the CD into a record. Finally, Stanford picked it up and smirked. “It’s done! _Finally!”_ He ran over to the T-Rex skull, where a record player sat. Grauntie Mabel sat in her chair, eyes bright. Fiddleford waited next to her, a recorder in his hands. “It took all day, but it’s done. Now, let’s just slow it down and prove my mind control theory to be correct.” He set the record on the player and lowered the tonearm down so that the stylus touched the record.

          _“When I’m thinking of you, I start feelin’ so deep…~”_ The voice slowed dramatically as Stanford changed the setting. He stared at it in confusion and then raised and lowered the speed. The song became choppy, but nothing else.

           “Erg!” Stanford huffed. “Why isn’t this working?”

           “Do… do ya think it’s just music?” Fiddleford tried. “Maybe there’s nothin’ weird about it. That Dan just likes Janice.”

          Stanford scoffed, “That… that can’t be it. I know what I saw. This- but it doesn’t add up! I know what I saw!”

          The front door opened. “Hey, Ford, Fidds. Sorry, Ms. Pines,” Dan said in passing. “I left my keys here.”

           “Don’t worry. I put them on the counter!” Grauntie Mabel called after him.

          Janice watched him go and then looked at Stanford and Fiddleford. “Hey, dorks. Whatcha doin’? Trying to find an equation to make girls like you?”

          Stanford glared at him. Fiddleford made an odd, irritated pout. Grauntie Mabel raised an eyebrow at her, but kept a polite smile. “Well aren’t you pretty tonight, Janice?”

          Dan came back in at that moment. “Thanks, Ms. Pines. Ready to go to look out point?”

           “Am I!” Janice laughed and joined him. She threw a smug smirk back at them. “Catch you on the rewind.”

          The door shut behind them.

          Grauntie Mabel lost her polite smile. “Well isn’t she a piece of work?”

          Stanford gasped. “Wait! Rewind!” He turned on the record player. This time, he manually rewound it.

          The record mumbled a bit before stating, _“You are under my control. Your mind is mine.”_

          Grauntie Mabel gasped. “Holy kitten fists! Now _that’s_ your proof!”

          Stanford laughed. “Yes! I knew it! It’s mind control after all!”

          Fiddleford gasped. “But, wait! Dan is with her _right now!_ ”

           “We’ve got to save him,” Stanford agreed with a sharp nod.

          Grauntie Mabel jumped up. “Finally! A good reason to hunt down a teenager! Let’s roll!”

 

          Stanley walked downstairs and sat down next to Hank and Nick in the kitchen. The two watched TV over a few Pitt Colas.

           “How’d it go?” Hank prompted.

          Stanley sighed. “Well, I finally got them to go to sleep. Greggy C. tried eating a tape dispenser and nearly choked on it.”

          On the TV, Shandra Jimenez spoke up. “The music industry was shaken today at the news that the boy band king, Ergman Bratsman, has been arrested. He was pulled over tonight for not having a rear license plate.”

          The TV cut to the limo, where Deputy Durland had Bratsman pinned the hood of the car with his hands behind his back. “I’m telling ya, the goat did it!” Bratsman complained.

          Sheriff Blubbs shook his head. “That’s what they all say.”

          The camera turned back to Shandra. “He’s now in county jail, awaiting trial.”

          Nick hissed, “YES!”

          Hank smiled. “Well, guess we can let them go now.”

           “Er, not now,” Stanley countered. “I was thinkin’ tomorrow afternoon, maybe. You remember the whole reason we found them, right?”

          Hank nodded. “Yeah, yeah we do. Just don’t keep them too long, Stanley. You remember what we said about letting them go.”

           “Of course, dudes.” Stanley grabbed a soda and sat down next to them. “What’s on TV, anyway?”

 

          Grauntie Mabel hunched over the wheel and stared at the night road with wide eyes. Stanford held onto his seatbelt. He was now in the passenger seat. Fiddleford stayed in the back. Stanford glanced down at the tape. “We _have_ to warn Dan about the song before he gets brainwashed completely!”

           “Just what I was thinking, champ. Road safety laws, prepared to be _ignored!_ ” She whipped the car through a blocked road that said “NO VEHICLES”.

          The waning moon and stars, some of which were hidden by the light clouds, spread light over the cliff top of Lookout Point. Dan and Janice sat in Janice’s van. Janice looked about. “Huh. That’s odd. Nate didn’t show up. So I guess it’s just you and me.” She put his arm around his shoulder.

          Quite suddenly, the Pinesmobile ran straight up the cliff side and landed on the grass near Janice’s van. The two watches as Grauntie Mabel stumbled as she hopped out of the car and Stanford ran out. Fiddleford stayed in the car and out of sight.

           “Dan!” Stanford wheezed and stopped by the passenger’s window. “Stop! Janice has been lying to you!”

           “Ford?” Dan stared at him in disbelief.

          Janice tipped her head. “Kid? Ms. Pines?”

           “ _Mrs._ Pines to you!” Grauntie Mabel stated.

           “Didn’t I say that?” Janice thought aloud.

          Stanford took a deep breath. “Okay, look. Dan: you need to hear this.” He held up the recorder.

          The recorder started playing Janice’s song. _“When I think about you, I start feelin’ so deep…”_

          Stanford shook his head. “No, no, no. It’s in here somewhere. Come on!”

          Janice leaned forward to set her finger on the window’s up button. “Okay, I’m just gunna shut the window.”

           “Wait!” Stanford turned up the volume on the recorder. “Here it is!”

          _“You are under my control. Your mind is mine.”_

          Dan’s eyebrows contracted. “Huh.” Janice, her eyes going round, bit her lip. Dan turned to her. “What’s that doing in our song?”

          Janice held her hands up. “Hey, uh, Danny, I promise I don’t know anything about those messages! I’m fact, I didn’t even write the song. I ripped it off another band. So, we’re all good, right?”

          Dan snorted, “No! We’re not ‘all good’! I don’t care about the messages. You said you wrote that for me and I actually thought that was _sweet,_ you big liar!”

          Janice shrugged and winced. “Yeah, I know, I know. I kind of lie about a lot of stuff. Like, heh, using your soap or fighting a ear, but–”

           “No. You know what, Janice? We’re through.” Dan opened the door. Stanford hopped back to prevent himself from getting hit.

           “Wait, Danny–”

           “I shouldn’t have given you another chance,” Dan growled and stormed off.

          Janice stuck her head on her steering wheel. “Oh man…” she groaned, tears now welling in her shut eyes.

          Stanford started to speak, but Grauntie Mabel kept a firm grip on his shoulder. “Don’t talk to him.” Grauntie Mabel shut Janice’s van door. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, the apocalypse is coming. Bury your gold! …you’ve been getting gold, right?”

          Stanford looked down at the tape he held and then back at the car. Fiddleford looked at him through the window. He put a hand on the back of his head and scooted over to the other seat, once again out of sight.

 

          Grauntie Mabel drove them back to the Shack. She dropped off Fiddleford at his house as they went. “Have a good night, Fiddle! Don’t let the bed-bugs bite! Don’t look so guilty, either.”

          Fiddleford sighed. “Ah… Ah don’t feel quite right.”

           “He’s better off without her,” Stanford pointed out. “She’s a bully and she would’ve just dragged him down with her.”

           “Yeah, Ah guess. Good night.” Fiddleford hopped out of Grauntie Mabel’s car and went back to his own house.

           “Stanford, I want you to know something.” Grauntie Mabel started off down the road. “What you did was noble. But I want you to remember that messing around with other people’s relationships can be very, very risky. More often than not, you just don’t do it, okay? It’s very, very hurtful when someone not only tries to get between you and your significant other, but succeeds. It leads to bad blood and heartbreak. Janice was in the wrong and you’re right: she doesn’t deserve Dan. But you’ll promise me that you won’t go tampering in anyone else’s relationship unless you’re sure they’re trying to brainwash them or hurt them, right?”

          Stanford nodded. “I will. Er, I won’t. I won’t go messing in relationships unless I need to.”

           “Good. Make that ‘need’ mean ‘rarely ever if ever’. I’m the match-maker around these parts, you know.” Grauntie Mabel smiled at him. “You know, in case you’re looking for a lucky someone.”

           “Oh my gosh, Grauntie, _no._ ” Stanford looked out the window. This only caused his great aunt to laugh harder.

           “Aw I’m messing with you, Fordsy!” She slowed the car as they arrived home. “Gosh, home sweet home. Now, let’s go ahead and go to sleep.”

          Stanford nodded and yawned. “That… sounds great, actually.”

           “Come on, sleepy head.” Grauntie Mabel turned off the car and walked to the front porch. Nicolas and Hank stood in the front porch. “Hello, boys! What are you doin’ out so late?”

          Nicolas looked up at Hank with a broad grin. Hank smiled. “Well, Stanley got a surprise for you.”

           “Oh, did he? Is he bringing it out here?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

          Nick nodded. “Yep! HIT IT!” He ran off the porch. Hank followed suit. Stanley burst open the door and ran around to stand by his great aunt. Sev’ral Timez walked onto the porch. Grauntie Mabel put a hand to her mouth and stared at them with wide eyes.

          Deep Chris stated, “This goes out to our girl, Mabel.”

          Nick pressed a button on a music box to start them off.

          _“Oh, girl you got me ackin’ so cray cray_

          _“CRAY CRAY_

          _“You tell me that you won't be my ba-bay_

          _“We’re non-threatening, girl_

          _“Yeah!”_ The band struck a pose and smiled at her.

          Grauntie Mabel looked down at Stanley and then the band. “You… you _did_ this?”

          Stanley grinned up at her. “Yep!”

          She swooped down and picked him up. “Why you little devil!” Stanley laughed and squirmed in her grasp. Grauntie Mabel set him down and took a few steps forward. “I’m so excited to meet you! Oh my gosh, I’ve always wanted to meet you. As he probably told you, I’m Mabel.”

          Deep Chris held his hand out and grinned. “Ey! I’m Deep Chris!”

           “I’m Creggy P.” Creggy P stuck his arms together in an X with two fingers in both hands sticking out. The rest of the band introduced themselves as well.

          Stanford chuckled and watched as Grauntie Mabel, practically shaking as she forced down her excitement, chatted with them with great animation. Stanford looked at Stanley. “So, did you rob a bank to pay these guys, or did you steal these guys?”

           “We freed them from their evil producer,” Stanley replied. “In return, they agreed to sing a song for Grauntie Mabel. You?”

           “We just broke Janice and Dan up.” Stanford shrugged. His smile wavered. “Not too proud of it.”

          Stanley punched him in the shoulder. “Aw, man, that’s awesome! We’re going to set these dudes free tonight.”

 

          Grauntie Mabel, stifling the tears of excitement and gratitude she surely felt, waved good-bye. Stanley, Stanford, Hank, and Nick stood together on the porch as the band scampered off. The band turned at the last minute and backed off into the brush and sang, _“Goodbye, girl~!”_

          Hank shook his head. “They won’t last a week.” Grauntie Mabel and Stanford looked at him in surprise. Hank shrugged.

           “Well, we should get you gremlins in bed. Do you need a ride home, sweet-hearts?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

           “No, but thank you, Ms. Pines. We’ve got a ride. Good night!” Hank led Nicolas out into the darkening parking lot.

           “Good night! Now come on, off to bed, Champs!” Grauntie Mabel shooed them inside.

 

12- **9** -11-5 1 3-12-15-14-5 9-14 1 3-1-7-5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, why would Mabel NOT be in _a_ here? I doubt Stanley's a die hard boy band _is_ fan, so runner up! Also, I was _one_ thinking the sabotage would come from Stanley, _z_ but then I realized he's too busy with Mabel _is_ and the band. I got the idea of Stanley liking baking _twenty-six_ from a head-canon about Relativity Falls I saw online. So, yay for headcanons!


	18. Land Before Capra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many mysteries and secrets in Gravity Falls. But the love Mabel has for Waddles and the love Ford had for Gompers is no mystery nor is it a secret. But the mysteries and secrets that do lie in Gravity Falls are dangerous and horrible and can mean the end for the careless or the small. When the mysteries do swipe one such a being right out from under the caretaker, will they get the safe return of their newest family member or will have to stay haunted with the empty bed and broken hearts left behind?

          Moonlight turned the pines to silver as the late night covered the valley in darkness. The roads were quiet as most people had gone to bed. Behind a billboard with Gideon’s face on it on the side of the road, a police car sat in wait. A radar gun stuck out of it, pointed at the road. Although a car raced past them and the radar gun went off at ‘99’, Sheriff Blubbs and Deputy Durland weren’t paying attention to it.

          Currently, Deputy Durland held a paper and pencil. Sheriff Blubbs gave encouragement. “Focus, Deputy! Remember your training. Easy… Easy…”

          Deputy Durland drew through the kid’s maze.

           “You’re almost there!”

          Deputy Durland attempted to draw the line to the treasure chest, but ended up jerking his hand to the side and drawing a line straight to the shark’s mouth. Deputy Durland sighed. “I almost got the treasure.”

          Sheriff Blubbs put a hand on Deputy Durland’s shoulder. “The time we spend together is treasure enough.” Something outside of the car rumbled. “Did you hear that?”

          Two sets of giant talons, each one larger than their heads, tore into the car roof like a fishing hook through toilet paper. The roof and windows were torn clean off and vanished into the night sky. Deputy Durland’s and Sheriff Blubb’s hats were swept off in the gust of wind that followed.

           “You reckon we should report that?” Deputy Durland asked, staring at the empty night sky.

          A sly smile crept across Sherrif Blubb’s face. “Or go for a ride in our new convertible~?”

           “Whooo!” Deputy Durland whooped and raced out into the road. Sheriff Blubbs yelled in excitement.

          The flying predator roared and made a pass over the forest, its skin gleaming in the silver moonlight.

 

          Grauntie Mabel, now driving the cart with two carts attached behind it, spoke into her microphone. “Now, on your left, you’ll see the Outhouse of Mystery!” They drove past the outhouse with many signs next to it yelling “MYSTERY?” “WHAT’S INSIDE?” “???”. “I got stuck in there once!” The tourists took a few pictures.

          One of the kids near the front raised his hand. “I need to go to the bathroom!”

          Grauntie Mabel spoke into the microphone again. “Please leave all questions until the end.” As they drove, Mabel pointed out spots they should see.

          Stanford sat on a chair by the counter and read. Gompers, hardly able to contain his own excitement, bounced into the room, bleating. Stanford looked down at the baby goat as he landed by him. Gompers jumped up and landed on his lap, which caused him to laugh and drop the journal on the counter beside him. “Hey, there, Gompers! I thought you were with Fiddleford.”

          Just then, Fiddleford raced into the room, breath coming in gasps. “Ohmygosh,Ford,I’msosorrybutIthinkI… lost Gompers…” Fiddleford stared at the goat, who stared back. He put a hand to his chest and sighed. “Oh, thank goodness! He really likes you.”

          Stanford rubbed the goat’s head. “Yeah, he’s a nice goat. How’s that project?”

          Fiddleford shrugged and strolled further into the room so that he stood by Stanford. “Well, the bag works really well, I think.” He held out a modified baby holder. “See? I know how easily he gets lost, so I thought I’d make this for you.”

           “Oh cool!” Stanford held out the backpack-baby holder. “Thanks, man!”

          Fiddleford smiled. “You like him a lot. It’s the least I could do. But, seeing as he found you despite being outside in the backyard, I don’t think you’ll have that sort of problem.”

           “Even so, thank you, Fidds. You’re a cool guy.” Stanford left his seat and gently set Gompers inside of the little goat holder. He fit very snuggly within it. When Stanford buckled it onto himself and walked around, Gompers didn’t fall out. The baby goat bleated.

           “Oh, and it’s big enough for Ms. Pines to wear, too. I don’t know when she’d need to wear it, but I found one that might have been for Waddles if he was ten times smaller.”

          Stanford gently took off the backpack and set Gompers down. “So, did you hear about that monster that’s been flying around town?”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Oh, yeah! Yeah, I did! Stanley was just talking to me about it.”

           “Cool! I looked it up in my journal,” he tipped his head toward the journal on the counter. “But I don’t know what it could be. I don’t have enough to go on.”

           “Hmm…” Fiddleford thought for a moment. “Well, I could go gather up those newspaper clippings I found and some rope or something to set up a trap!”

           “Oooh! I’ll go get some cameras! Maybe like a steak or something, too!” Stanford took his journal and put it safely back in his jacket.

          Stanley ran in at that moment. “Hey! What’s the word, Sixer?”

           “Hey, Stanley! We’re going a monster hunt.”

          Stanley stopped as he nearly tripped over Gompers. “Ooooh! Really?”

           “Trapping,” Stanley agreed with a nod.

           “Trapping? Well… is that like, staying in one place for a few hours or…?”

           “Staying in place for a few hours,” Stanford agreed.

           “Oh okay. …well, sure! When are we leaving?”

           “We need to get things ready, first,” Stanford reminded him. “Maybe you could get some bait- like a giant steak or something.”

           “I’ll go get the ropes and the newspaper!” Fiddleford ran out of the room.

           “I’ll go get that steak!” Stanley ran out the other door.

          Stanford picked up the goat-carrier and walked out of the room. Gompers happily followed him.

          When he got the cameras, he sat down and started fiddling with them. However, Gompers stopped beside him and nibbled on his shirt. So, Stanford stopped what he was doing to give him a snack. Gompers, tuckered out from so much running about, lay down next to Stanford. Stanford took out a camera, lay down, and took a picture of the two of them. He looked over the picture. Yep. That was one to keep.

          He put his camera away and picked up his supplies. The cameras worked so what else should be done on that front?

          Grauntie Mabel walked into the house, then. As she was counting the amount of money she got from that last tour, she tripped over Gompers and landed with a _huff_ on the floor. “Agk! What? Ford? What are you doing on the floor?”

          Stanford sat up straight and righted Gompers. “Um… sleeping?”

          Mabel corrected her glasses and fez. “Man, I thought your brother was weird!” Gompers chewed on Grauntie Mabel’s pant leg.

          Stanford stood up and laughed. “Aw! He likes you!”

           “Ugh!” She raised her leg. Her pants tore as gravity pulled Grauntie Mabel and Gompers apart. “Okay, that’s it! I love you, darling, but you’re going outside.” She opened the window next to the counter. Gompers could easily fit through there.

           “Grauntie Mabel, no!” Stanford picked up Gompers, who finished eating the cloth he had torn off. “It’s not safe outside! There are all types of predators out there- like mountain lions and dogs.”

           “He’ll be fine, Stanford. There aren’t any mountain lions by the Shack,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out.

           “You let Waddles stay inside,” Stanford pointed out. “He eats everything, too!”

           “Waddles has seniority,” Grauntie Mabel denied. “He’s lived here longer than Gompers has been alive- almost longer than you, young man!”

          Gompers bleated. Stanford huffed, “If anyone goes outside, it’s Waddles. It’s too dangerous for Gompers to be out there.” With that, he turned and stalked out of the gift shop.

          When he got to the living room, he found Fiddleford was already there. “Hey, Fidds!” Stanford called and set Gompers down.

           “Oh! Hey, Ford.” Fiddleford held up a cork board. Multiple newspaper clippings were pinned to it. A few rolls of rope were curled up in a backpack over his shoulder. “I’ve got everything. Do you have the cameras?”

           “Yep!” Stanford showed off the cameras he had. “They work just fine.”

           “Have you seen Stanley?” Fiddleford prompted.

          Stanford shook his head. “He’s probably still out getting the bait.” He looked down at Gompers. “You’re a tired guy, huh? I can’t leave him here alone…”

           “Welp. Once your brother comes back, we’re gunna have to go either way,” Fiddleford pointed out. “Maybe you could ask Ms. Pines, since she’s going to be here all day.”

           “That’s a good idea.” Stanford put away his cameras and gave Gompers a pat on the head. He ran around into the hallway, where Grauntie Mabel held Waddles. “Grauntie Mabel?”

           “Hmm?” She looked down at him. “Ford! I see your shadow followed you in here.” Stanford looked down. Gompers stood by his side.

          Stanford nodded and turned back to her. “Yep! But… I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

           “What do you want?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

           “Huh?” Stanford tried to look surprised, but it didn’t work.

           “I mean: what are you asking me to do? I know a beg when I see one, Ford. I was a kid, too,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out.

          Stanford nodded. “Well, you got me. Fidds, Stanley, and I are going out to see if we can trap that monster that’s flying around. It shouldn’t take too long. But, I don’t want to leave Gompers alone. Could you watch him for me, please?” Grauntie Mabel looked down at the little goat. Stanford held out his foot to block Gompers as he attempted to sniff her ankle. “I know that you don’t _love_ him, but you love me, right?”

          Grauntie Mabel sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do. Don’t get yourself eaten, kid.”

           “Thank you, Grauntie Mabel! Please make sure he doesn’t go outside.”

           “That goat’s not stepping hoof out of here,” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

          Stanford hugged her and then patted Gompers on the head. “You can stay with Grauntie Mabel while I’m out, Gompers. Don’t cause any trouble! Oh, and, Grauntie Mabel?”

           “Yes, dear?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

           “How do you hold Waddles like that? Doesn’t he weigh a lot?”

           “Oh, he does. He’s a give seventy-something pounds!” Grauntie Mabel nuzzled Waddles, who oinked. “But, when I got him, he was only a good eight or ten pounds. Since I carry him almost every day, I got strong enough to hold him and more. I bet your little goat there’s going to get pretty big, too.”

           “Is it also because you’re so tall?”

           “Me? Tall? Well… yeah, I kinda am.” She chuckled and stroked Waddles. “I didn’t grow up so big holding Waddles. He’s only seven years old, after all. Being tall’s in the genes, kid. Get ready to be a _giant_. Now, I espect you have some monster hunting to do?”

           “Right! Thank you!” He ran back into the living room, where Stanley met up with them.

          Grauntie Mabel knelt in front of the baby goat. “Okay, Gompers. I’m more of a pig person myself, you know this, but I can make exception. I still have my eye on you, though.”

 

          Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford set their bikes by a tree in the large forest. Stanford took a deep breath and gripped one of his cameras. “Oh, today is the day we catch this thing!”

          Fiddleford nodded enthusiastically. “Once we get this picture, we’ll be heroes!”

          Stanley chuckled, “We’ll get all the babes, then.”

           “Yeah, if wasn’t so hot out here,” Stanford agreed. “Now! Let’s set this up!”

          The three went to work nailing pegs into the woof of trees and tying and looping ropes. Three cameras were all set up in a circle around a tree stump, where the meat was set on it. The three sat down on a branch with a good view of the meat. Stanford looked about. “Good. If everything goes according to plan, the creature will grab that steak, cross through the string, and set off cameras A, B, and C.”

           “And nothing can go wrong!” Stanley agreed and then recoiled as his hand slipped into some sap from the tree. “Ugh. Is sap supposed to be this sticky?”

          Fiddleford grabbed a Pitt Cola out of Stanford’s bag and handed it to Stanley. “Yeah. It’s tree sap. It sticks to you. Then it dries. That’s how we got our insect and a bunch of small vertebrate fossils. Like there!” They looked to see a wad of sap with a fly stuck in it. “Millions of years from now, that will probably be the fossil of an extinct species.”

           “Flies go extinct?” Stanley prompted and opened his Pitt Cola. “Sounds good to me.”

          A great _whooooosh_ and a roar overhead caused the three to duck. A large gust of wind, nearly strong enough to knock them off the branches, tailed it. The cameras snapped all at once as the ropes were torn apart. When they looked around, the meat was nowhere to be found.

          The three boys looked at each other, their smiles wider than ever.

 

           “And here, ladies and gentlemen, is our final exhibit!” Grauntie Mabel crowed as she led the crowd to something tall and wide under a sheet. “Behold! The most beautiful creatures on the planet!” She tore off the blanket to reveal a large mirror. The crowd stared at it for a few seconds before laughing and giggling. Grauntie Mabel laughed. “Yeah, we have fun here, eh? No, but really. Here is our last exhibit:” Grauntie Mabel walked around until she was beside something rather large and pointed at the front end under a tarp. “I present to you, a unicorn made out of corn! A corn-icorn!” She tore off the tarp and presented it with a large grin.

          The crowd gasped, their smiles lost. Mabel, confused by the lack of ooh’s and aah’s the normal exhibits get, turned to the creature she’d created. “What the-?” Half of it was gone. Standing on the floor, now quite content after having such a bit meal, was Gompers. He chewed on the last cob he’d taken off it.

           “What a rip-off!” a man in the front huffed and put his hands to his hips. “Kids: we’re leaving!” The two kids in front of him threw down their Mystery Shack gifts and stalked after their dad and the rest of the angry crowd.

           “No! No!” Mabel gasped. The exit shut behind them. She spun around and glared at the goat. “You!”

 

          Farther in the house, the door opened as the trio ran inside. Stanford held up the sticky cameras. “I’ll go develop the films!”

          Fiddleford ran to the kitchen. “I’ll make some nachos!”

           “I’ll help!” Stanley called back. The three scattered.

          Stanford laid everything around their room in the attic and drew the curtains. As the pictures developed, he hung them up on strings to get a better look at them. The first one to dry completely was of him and Gompers. He put that one on his desk. The second was the wing of a large creature. “Hmm… if Camera B got the wing then the rest is on… Camera C!” He turned and darted to the other side of the room. In the pool of liquid, the picture slowly began to develop. “The creature…!” Stanford breathed.

          Just then, the door opened. “Who wants victory nachos?” Stanley declared, holding up a large bowl.

           “The picture!” Stanford yelped and picked up the ruined photo.

           “Don’t worry, man, I only ate a third of them,” Stanley admitted. Fiddleford walked in behind him, a look of worry clear on his features. “Half of them…. Okay, I ate all of them!” he laughed and tipped the bowl upside down.

 

          Outside, Grauntie Mabel stalked into the backyard wielding a metal stake, Gompers’ leash, and Gompers. She stopped a few feet into the yard and sat down. She wrapped his leash around the stake, hammered it into the ground, and then tied the other end to Gompers’ neck. As an afterthought, she put a fuzzy scarf around him to make him easily visible from the house. “Just ten minutes, okay? You’ll be fine.” She got up and walked to the house. “‘Oh, but Grauntie Mabel there are predators out there!’ Oh, please. Nothing’s going to eat a baby goat this close to the Shack.”

          No sooner had she said that then a large roar and flapping of wings sounded behind her. A gust of wind blew off her fez off her head and everything in the surrounding area. Gompers bleated as he was taken out of the yard and flew into the sky.

 

          Inside, Stanford glared at Stanley. “What’s wrong with you?!”

           “I’m sorry, bro! I got a little carried away.” Stanley held his hands out in front of him.

          Stanford sighed. “I know, bro. Just… you have to be more careful next time. When do you think we’d ever get the opportunity to-” he cut himself off with a shout as the creature flew past the attic window. The three spent no time in rushing outside.

          In the yard, Grauntie Mabel stared open-mouthed at the sky. They watched as the creature flew into the forest. The loose string from Gompers’ scarf fluttered in the wind and caught on the trees.

           “Whoa!” Fiddleford breathed. “It’s a real dinosaur!”

          Stanford looked back at them. “How is it possible that a dinosaur survived sixty-five million years?!”

          Stanley prompted, “Hey! Grauntie Mabel! Did you get to see it?” When she didn’t answer, Stanley cocked his head. “Grauntie Mabel?”

           “It- it took him,” she managed to choke out.

           “Took who?” Stanford prompted.

           “The…” Her gaze traveled to Stanford. She clapped her hands together and smiled. “Well, uh, good news! You’re getting a puppy!”

          Stanford’s smile slowly left him. He glanced at the house and the stake in the ground. “Grauntie Mabel? What happened?”

           “Well… you see…” Grauntie Mabel bit her tongue.

           “Who was ‘him’?” Stanford pressed. “Who did that pterodactyl take?”

          Grauntie Mabel winced. “He… okay, he took… he took Gompers.”

           “ _WHAT?!_ Oh my gosh! How did this happen?” Stanford put a hand on his head and paced in a circle. “He jus- just- Grauntie Mabel! How did this happen? You didn’t put him outside, did you?” Grauntie Mabel put him outside. There was just no other explanation. Yet… yet he couldn’t believe it. Grauntie Mabel may not have liked Gompers, but wouldn’t put him danger. She wouldn’t put anyone in danger like that- especially since she knew how much Stanford loved him.

           “Wh-what? Oh no! No, I-I didn’t put him-” she winced and looked at the sky. “Look, here’s how it went. So, I was just finishing up the last exhibit in my tour when Gompers might have basically eaten it. But I’d never hold a grudge against an animal- especially a baby. They don’t know what they’re doing! So, I knitted a scarf for him and… well, I guess he wanted to show off his new clothes because he ran off. Before I could grab him, there was this huge gust of wind. Before I knew it, the thing swooped down and practically took him right out of my arms! I did try to save him but, because that blast knocked _everything_ over, he was gone.”

          Stanford gasped, “Oh, you tried to save him!” He tackle-hugged her, nearly pushing her back.

           “Yeah, I’m a great gal alright,” Grauntie Mabel agreed, an uncomfortable pretend-smile on her face.

          Stanley prompted, eyes narrowed in skepticism, “Ran after a pterodactyl? I thought you didn’t even believe in the super natural.”

          Grauntie Mabel turned her gaze on him. “Dinosaurs aren’t super natural,” Grauntie Mabel denied. “They’re just giant old lizards!”

          Stanford let go of her and looked in the direction of his feet. Stanley shook his head and marched over to Stanford. “That’s it! No pterodactyl messes with my brother!” He put a hand on Stanford’s shoulder, which caused him to look up. “We’re going to find that pterodactyl and bring back Gompers. For Ford!”

           “For Ford!” Fiddleford agreed.

          Grauntie Mabel put up her hands. “How will we even find the little guy?”

          Stanford looked down at the ground and gasped. He pointed to the string that got caught in the trees. “We follow that!”

           “Yeah!” Grauntie Mabel agreed half-heartedly. “Let’s go save Gompers…”

 

          Grauntie Mabel couldn’t let them use her car to chase down a flying dinosaur as it was a low-riding car that couldn’t let their spot the string nor could it hold a large cage. So Fiddleford convinced his dad to lend them his car for the trip. They lugged a giant cage to the truck and strapped it in. Stanley glanced back at Fiddleford as he tested the straps. “Hey, Ford. We need to talk,” he whispered. “About Fidds.”

          Stanford looked back at him. He finished strapping on the goat-holder that Fiddleford had made for him. “What?” he whispered back. “What about him?”

           “This… this is a really high-stakes mission,” Stanley explained. “I’m worried about him comin’ along. I love the guy but sometimes he can be… kinda a coward.”

          The truck popped and Fiddleford jumped back with a gasp.

           “What? Fear can temper your willingness to take risk and make yourself more cautious,” Stanford denied. “He’s our friend, bro.”

           “I know but… but come on. Remember the Gobblewonker mission? He totally wimped out on us. Or during Summerween when he nearly got us all killed because he panicked. Then there was time that storm picked up and he accidently fell straight into the Bottomless Pit and we had to help him. Then there was–”

           “Okay, okay. I get it,” Stanford interrupted him. “It’s just… let him down easy.”

          Stanley nodded and strolled over to Fiddleford. Fiddleford took a few steps back to admire his handiwork. “Hey, Fidds!” Stanley greeted.

          Fiddleford turned around and smiled again. “Hey, Stanley! Gosh, can you believe it? We’re about to chase down a real live dinosaur!”

           “Yeah, we are,” Stanley agreed.

           “We might even find others where it’s goin’,” Fiddleford went on. “We could even find whole skeletons, if we’re lucky! Could you imagine findin’ an entire dinosaur skeleton?! This is goin’ ta be great! Oh, _and_ we get to make sure Gompers is nice an’ safe. Ford really cares about him. Oh, shoot! I’m sorry, did I interrupt you? I got a bit excited.” Fiddleford chuckled. “Did you want to say something?”

           “Oh! Uh…” Stanley took a deep breath and smiled back. “We’re really excited your coming with us! I haven’t seen a dinosaur before, either.”

 

          Grauntie Mabel drove the old pick-up truck. They were a bit slow as they followed the string. Eventually, they came upon an old, ruined church. The string dove into a hole in the roof of the church. As they walked in, they found the place in shambles and covered in moss and vegetation. At the very end of the church, Old Woman Chiu sat in a rocking chair. She looked over something in her hands and whistled a tune. “‘Old Woman’ Chiu?” Stanford prompted.

           “Hello, kids!” “Old Woman” Chiu called with an excited wave.

          Stanley asked, “What are you doing here?”

           “You’ll never believe me!” “Old Woman” Chiu started. “So, I was outside my house, tinkerin’ with a car, when this giant winged beast swooped through the sky and took my mirror! It flew lickity-split down here!” she pointed to the gargantuan hole in the floor between her and everyone else. This prompted them to look down into the dark hole.

           “Ugh! Looks pretty… hairy in there,” Grauntie Mabel commented.

          Stanley elbowed her in the side. “Come on, Grauntie Mabel! You faced off a pterodactyl before, remember?”

           “Oh, right! Yeah,” Grauntie Mabel laughed. “I did do that!”

           “My!” “Old Woman” Chiu commented. “What suspicious laughter!”

          Stanford stood up straight. “Come on! We have to get down there!”

           “Old Woman” Chiu smiled. “Do ya need someone to tag along an’ tell weird personal stories?”

           “No thanks,” Grauntie Mabel denied.

          They threw down a rope and the group, even “Old Woman” Chiu, climbed down. “So, there I was, fightin’ a racoon for the same piece of meat, when our lips meet and we accidently kiss!” “Old Woman” Chiu exclaimed.

          Grauntie Mabel huffed. “You can’t take a hint, can you?”

           “Nope!” she agreed cheerfully.

          The rope above them, overly strained by the weight of three children and two adults, split and finally snapped. The group screamed as they plummeted into the depths of wherever they were.

          Not too far down, they landed on a very large mushroom. They groaned as the impact of the fall, though not fatal, hurt.

           “Whoa,” Stanley breathed, holding up a lantern. “This place looks so… weird!”

           “Those plants aren’t any I’ve seen,” Fiddleford agreed as he inspected a flower. “They don’t even look like they belong on the surface.”

          Stanley nodded. “Or this time!”

          Stanford held a photo of him and Gompers, the goat peacefully asleep. “We’re going to find you, Gompers. I promise.” He gave the weird plants a sideways glance. Unable to resist any longer, he took his pen out from behind his ear and his notebook frm his jacket and feverishly scribbled down everything he saw.

          As they traveled, Fiddleford twitched his fingers and wrung his hands. He finally just picked up the red string and rolled that up as they walked. Stanford shed the light of his lantern over the walls. They had to step over bones and mining helmets in order to progress. Stanford looked about and then stopped as he came close to a golden wall. When he pointed the lantern up, he came face-to-face with a giant T-Rex.

          They screamed upon seeing the beast. Fiddleford hid behind Grauntie Mabel. Stanley puffed up and took a step back. Stanford stared at it in awe. “Look! It’s stuck in the sap!” When they walked around some more, they found the entire cavern to be filled with dinosaurs stuck in the sap.

           “They’re everywhere,” Stanley agreed. Fiddleford walked around the place, completely speechless.

           “This is amazing!” Grauntie Mabel gasped. “Never mind the corn-icorn! This is the attraction of a lifetime! I could set up shop here and turn this into a theme park!”

           “Uh, guys?” Fiddleford called. They, all but Grauntie Mabel that was, turned their attention to the dinosaur Fiddleford was inspecting. It was encased in sap- everything but one of its fingers, that was.

           “The sap is melting,” Stanford agreed. Nearby, there was a rather large pile of mostly melted sap with the indentions of the pterodactyl in it. “It must be the summer sun. That’s what freed it!”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah. Maybe we should keep moving.”

          Grauntie Mabel walked about the center of the cavern. “Velvety rope here, tick booth thing here- this place is a gold mine! I should’ve put that goat out ages ago!” She stopped mid-breath as the words she spoke processed.

           “What did you just say?” Stanford breathed, his lantern held by his hip.

          Grauntie Mabel turned around to look at him. “Hmm? What?”

          Stanford narrowed his eyes into a glare and stalked forward so that he was in front of his great aunt. “I thought you said Gompers ran out of the house.”

          Stanley crossed his arms. “I knew it! You’re a terrible liar.”

           “N-no! Wait! I mean, if you think about it-” Grauntie Mabel started.

           “You put him outside!” Stanford accused. “And you _lied to me about it!_ Now, thanks to you, my goat could be _dead!_ ” Stanford struggled to put down tears. Now, not only was his goat gone, but Grauntie Mabel had put him outside intentionally and then lied to him. He trusted her. “Gompers could be dead!”

           “Look, Ford, I–”

           “No!” Stanford snapped. “That’s it! I’m not talking to you.” He crossed his arms and turned around, fuming, as his hurt turned to fury.

           “Look, you can’t be serious!” Grauntie Mabel tried. Stanford refused to acknowledge that she spoke. Grauntie Mabel tried approaching him. “Kid–”

           “No! Is anyone talking?” Stanford prompted and walked off. “Because I can’t hear anything!”

          Grauntie Mabel turned to Stanley and gestured to his brother. Stanley turned away from her as well. Fiddleford took a step forward, holding the ball of yarn in his hands. “Hey, don’t fight! Ah know it was an accident, but it already happened. Look! We got this string and it leads to Gompers! All we gotta do is keep following this string until…” Fiddleford trailed off. As he spoke, he had been rolling up more yarn. Now the end of it was between his fingers. The group stared at him in disbelief and shock. “U-uh! What direction was it again?” He looked over one of the many tunnels connected to this one.

           “Ugh! Fidds! You lost the trail!” Stanley growled and stalked up to him. He took the lantern from beside Stanford as he went.

           “Hey, look. We’ll find our way! Trust me!” Fiddleford replied, a cautious smile on his features. “Ah’m sure there’s a trail around here somewhere. We just gotta- ah!” he yelled in fright as something ran over his feet and jumped back. The lantern was knocked out of Stanley’s hands and shattered on the ground, plunging them into darkness.

           “Ergh! See, this is why I didn’t want to bring you along!” Stanley snapped.

           “Wh-what?” Fiddleford asked, a nervous smile playing on his lips. “What do you mean?”

           “I _mean_ that this is very important to Ford, and you keep screwing it up!” Stanley huffed. “You’ve got us _hopelessly_ lost because you’re afraid of stupid shadows!”

           “H-hey!” Fiddleford bristled. “Ah’m being c-cautious! And it’s scary down here!”

           “And it’s my fault?” Stanley asked, crossing his arms. “Gosh, talk clearly, would you? I can’t understand you with that stupid accent!”

          The two fell into bickering. Grauntie Mabel attempted to chip in, possibly to break up the fight, but Stanford growled at her and they, too, started arguing.

           “Hey, guys!” “Old Woman” Chiu called their attention. She held up their lantern, which was now lit. “Cheer up! I fixed your lantern!”

          They turned to her. All anger was lost in the wake of horror as they stared at “Old Woman” Chiu and the giant creature behind her. The thing was _enormous,_ hardly fitting into the cavern. It’s slitted eyes stared them down and powerful wings were folded back. They screamed in terror.

           “Old Woman” Chiu screamed and then laughed. “What- what are we doing?” She turned around. The creature turned its head so that its eye faced them and lowered its head to take a closer look. “Hmm? Oh! No one make any loud noises or sudden movements,” she commanded. They stood stock-still. “Old Woman” Chiu laughed uproariously, “We found it!”

          The pterodactyl shrieked. They darted down the tunnel closest, which caused the dinosaur to follow in pursuit on all fours. However, the dinosaur’s wings got caught on the door on the way inside. The small group dove behind a few rocks just outside of the tunnel and hid behind them. The creature erupted from the tunnel and took off, its wings catching the air of the gargantuan cavern they were now in. Sunlight streamed in through a hole at the top of the ceiling to shed light over the creature’s nest, which was on a plateau that had a railroad connected to it.

           “Guys,” Stanley said at last. “We need a plan to get out of here!”

           “Okay, okay,” Grauntie Mabel started. “How about, I knit a pig costume. Then Ford over here hooks up a speaker or something to it and trick it into thinking it’s a sacrifice! What do you say?”

          Stanford turned away from her again, arms wrapped around his legs.

          Grauntie Mabel groaned, “Come on, Ford! You can’t stop talking to me forever!”

           “Yeah, bro,” Stanley agreed. “We need to work together on this.”

          Fiddleford rolled his eyes. “So, ya want to work with Ford but not me?”

          Stanley sighed. “Not right now, Fiddleford.”

          This launched the three of them into another bitter argument. Stanford looked over the vast open space they were in. A small ‘ _baaa!’_ came from the nest. He perked up. “Wait! Did you hear that?” Stanford peeked around the rock to look at the nest. Wandering about the nest of shaky legs was a little baby goat with one horn. “Gompers!” He took off to the railroad.

          Fiddleford yelled, “No! Wait!”

           “Stanford!” Stanley cried.

           “Wait!” Grauntie Mabel called. “Slow down!”

          Stanford, easily keeping his balance on the tracks, huffed back, “What? Is someone talking to me? Because I don’t care!”

           “Oh no!” “Old Woman” Chiu gasped. “He’s gone deaf with fear!”

          Stanley called, “Stanford! Come back here!” He ran onto the tracks, followed closely by everyone else.

          Stanford jumped into the nest. “Gompers!” The baby goat cried and bounded to him. Stanford picked him up and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. “You’re safe now. I’ll never lose you again.”

          Everyone else, however, stayed on the lip of the nest. Skeletons–human skeletons–along with missing debris such as a police car top littered the nest. A giant egg was situated in the center. Stanley jumped down and raced to Stanford’s side. “Great! You got him!” Stanley hissed as Stanford put Gompers in the little goat-holder. “Now let’s get out of here!”

          The shadow of the beast flew over them. Terrified, Gompers cried and bounded out of the nest. “Gompers!” Stanford yelled and chased after him. The little goat rammed into Grauntie Mabel, causing her to lose her precarious balance and fall back. She held up the struggling goat. “Ugh! Get off!” The pterodactyl made another turn and dove. Mabel scrambled out of the way of her talons. The track snapped and the motion caused Grauntie Mabel and Gompers to fall off.

           “MABEL!”

           “MS. PINES!”

          The two landed on a very large, squishy mushroom and bounced onto the ground. Gompers, free of the holder, bounced on the soft ground. Grauntie Mabel sighed. “Yeah. You’re okay.” Gompers jumped and fell back as the pterodactyl swooped at them. Grauntie Mabel ducked. Her fez was picked up by the beast. It landed in the nest with the rest of them.

          Stanford held up the fez. “Oh no. We’ve got to get her back!”

          Stanley turned to “Old Woman” Chiu. “Chiu! Do you have an invention to help us distract the pterodactyl?”

           “Do I?” She took off her hat and stuck her hand in it. After a moment of searching, she withdrew her hand from the hat. “Nope.”

          The egg beside them cracked and fell over. The kids and “Old Woman” Chiu jumped back. The egg top shattered and revealed a large, soft head and tiny paws. It chirped like a little bird. The group relaxed at the sight of the newborn thing.

           “Aw! Welcome to the world, little buddy!” “Old Woman” Chiu cooed and stepped forward. The infant pterodactyl lunged at her and snapped her up. It swallowed her whole. The kids screamed and scrambled back further.

          Below them, Grauntie Mabel hid under the shadow of the mushroom with Gompers. The dinosaur flew over them again. “Guess the big thing must be hungry,” Grauntie Mabel mused. “Well, if it’s you or me…” She stood up and gently pushed him out from under the shadow with her foot. Gompers stumbled forward and looked back at her. “What are you looking at?” The baby goat stared at her. “Don’t give me that look! What am I supposed to do? Let it eat me?” Gompers continued to stare at her. “You can’t guilt trip me! It isn’t working!” She denied and paced. “Who cares if you’re Ford’s favorite thing in the world? I could live without him ever talking to me again. Telling useless facts and… and probably never talking to Lee again, either. And being hated, and…” She turned her eyes on the baby goat. He tipped his head.

          Behind him, the pterodactyl turned and swooped, eyes fixed on the easily visible goat. Grauntie Mabel growled and took a few steps forward. She picked up the goat holder, swept Gompers into it, and tied it around her back so that Gompers, unable to move, was safely tied to her. “This is about the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” She took a few steps forward and tensed. “You want this goat?!” she shouted to the pterodactyl. “Then you’re going to have to get through me!” She ran forward and leaped into the air as the pterodactyl closed in on them.

          The baby pterodactyl rooted around in the nest. Stanley breathed, “Did he really just eat that old woman? That is messed up.”

          The baby coughed up a hat. “Old Woman” Chiu opened its mouth, laughing, “I’m okay!” The baby swallowed her again.

          Stanford gasped, “What do we do? What do we do?”

          Fiddleford set his gaze. “We’ve got to get into a straight line.”

           “What?” Stanley asked.

          Fiddleford explained, “The pterodactyl’s eyes are so far apart that, when you’re standing right in front of it, it can’t see you!”

           “Fidds,” Stanley started. “I know you’re trying to help, but this–”

           “Look, Lee, I know I’ve been wrong a few times,” Fiddleford admitted. “I am a coward and a might superstitious, too. But, please, as my friend, trust me!”

          Stanley stared at him and then sighed. “Yeah. I trust you.”

           “Okay, good! Get behind me!”  Fiddleford slunk around to the edge of the nest with the tracks. The baby pterodactyl continued to root around in the nest. When the three stepped into the nest, the baby looked up. They stayed perfectly still in a straight line in front of it. The baby let out a frustrated, confused squeak. Fidds tipped his head and, hands raised by his head, scooted down the tracks. Stanley and Stanford stayed ahead of him, walking at the same pace. Occasionally, the pterodactyl would move its head. They would move with it.

           “It’s working!” Stanford breathed.

          Stanley’s foot went through a board. He straightened himself out with hardly a breath out of place.

          Once they crossed onto the stone cliff, the baby chirped and went back to playing in its nest.

          They walked around to sit behind the rocks they hid behind earlier. The three sighed in relief. Fiddleford, sweating and shaking visibly, put a hand to his chest. Stanley patted him on the back. “Awesome going, Fidds!”

          The pterodactyl roared and flew up into the air. Her movements were choppy and she staggered in the sky. Stanley narrowed his eyes. “Is that…?”

           “Mabel?” Stanford gasped.

          Riding on the neck of the pterodactyl, goat snuggly tied to her back, was Grauntie Mabel. She repeatedly punched the flying dinosaur in the face.

           “She’s got Gompers!” Stanford squeaked. “They’re both alive!”

           “She’s punching it in the face!” Stanley laughed.

          The pterodactyl turned so that she barreled toward the rocky cliff the kids were on. “You’re time is up, big gal!” Grauntie Mabel cried and, holding her fists together as if clutching a sword, stabbed her head. The pterodactyl crashed into the cliff. Grauntie Mabel scrambled off her just in time to allow her to plummet to the ground below.

          The children cheered as they raced to her side. Stanford, clutching Mabel’s fez, stared at her with a grand smile. Maybe he was wrong about her.

           “Here’s your goat, kid.” Grauntie Mabel took off the goat-holder with Gompers in it and traded it for her fez.

           “You saved him for me.” Stanford clutched the terrified goat. Upon being held by Stanford, Gompers’ racing heart slowed down to its normal rhythm.

           “Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta- look out!” Grauntie Mabel raced into the tunnel as the incredibly furious pterodactyl climbed up the cliff. The kids were in her shadow.

          The pterodactyl crawled through the tunnel behind them and snapped her toothy beak. Stanley’s bag tore and a piece ripped off. They scrambled into the clearing where the hole in the church was. They stopped and looked up. Their rope dangled yards up from the surface.

          Grauntie Mabel turned around. “We’re trapped!”

          A few geysers burst around them. Stanford looked about. “We’ve got to take one of these geysers! They’ll shoot us to the surface!” With no other options, they jumped onto the geyser. Nothing happened. The pterodactyl bore down on them.

          Stanford slapped the water. “Come on! Go!”

          Grauntie Mabel raised her arms. “Not on my watch!” She hit the side of the geyser as hard as she could. The thing burst immediately, throwing them up high into the air. The pterodactyl fluttered back, unable to bring herself to go into the spray.

          They burst through the church roof and scattered about it as they landed. Stanford, clutching Gompers, clung to a chandelier. Stanley and Fiddleford crawled out of a piano. Grauntie Mabel clutched her chest as she lay squarely in a coffin. Half of the church shuttered and collapsed, burying the hole.

          The straggly, exhausted group walked out of the broken church and to their car. Gompers walked alongside them. Stanford looked up at Grauntie Mabel. “You really did save him. You punched a pterodactyl in the face! For Gompers!”

           “Well, now, I couldn’t have my favorite nephews not talking to me, now could I?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. “If I’ve got to leap onto a flying dinosaur to do it, then that’s what I have to do.”

          Grauntie Mabel started the car. Stanford got into the front seat and Gompers jumped onto his lap. In the back seat, Stanley and Fiddleford got buckled in. Stanley took off his bag and looked at it. “Wow. It really tore through it.” He put his hand through it and then gasped as his hand closed around something hard. “Check it out!” He picked up the thing and presented it to Fiddleford.

           “A real dinosaur tooth? That’s awesome!” Fiddleford gasped.

           “Not as awesome as you saving our butts,” Stanley pointed out.

          Fiddleford smiled and shrugged. “Thanks.”

           “Do you think we’ll have to worry about the rest of those dinosaurs?”

           “I doubt it.”

          Inside the church, the wood in the hole shuttered. A piece of wood snapped and fell in. “Old Woman” Chiu, wielding a cracked mirror, crawled out of it. “I ate my way through a dinosaur!” she laughed.

 

          Stanford and Fiddleford relaxed in front of the TV. Fiddleford played with a cubic’s cube that Stanford had gone to great lengths to make challenging. In the other room, Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Gompers sat around the table playing cards. Gompers made a quiet bleat. “Bleating! That’s his tell! I fold!” Grauntie Mabel slapped her cards down.

           “Tough luck! He was bluffing!” Stanley denied.

           “But I had four aces!” Grauntie Mabel complained. “That goat is a wizard.” Gompers nibbled on the cards in front of him. “Look at him! He’s taunting me.”

          Stanley gave her a mischievous smile. “I’ve been cheating the last eight rounds.”

          Grauntie Mabel laughed. “That’s my boy!”

 

9-20 23-15-18-11-19 6-15-18 7-15-1-20-19!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cryptic summary is _a_ cryptic. I'm sorry, I'm tired. But anyway, Mabel is completely _is_ against lying. She hates _one_ it. Even when she had to fend for herself in her _z_ younger years, her greatest guilts _is_ were those of lying. But what she hates more is seeing her _twenty-six_ family hurt. You should try listening to your nephews more often. Also, say goodbye to your innocence in the new chapter, kids!


	19. Dreamscaperers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally, the Pines household is a loud place full of excitement, sibling squabbling, glitter, and weird pets scampering. But peace is a finicky concept, especially to those who want to break it. Up until now, what the mystery trio have gone through is a cake walk. But what happens when a new foe unlike any seen before is met...?

          Rain poured down over the pine forests and down the shambled roof of the Mystery Shack. Multiple pots, pans, and buckets were set up throughout the house to catch any leaks. Upstairs, Stanford and Stanley set in their room, playing a game of Battleship. Stanley looked over his table. “I’m going to say… B5.”

“Miss!” Stanley attached another red dot to the board.

“I don’t think you’re playing this right.”

           “Kids!” Grauntie Mabel called. “Come quick!” The two jumped and hurried downstairs, where Grauntie Mabel was watching TV. “Watch this and laugh with me!”

          On the TV, Bud stood on a blue and white cloud background. He held a little guitar and laughed a small song. “Who’s cute as a button and always your friend? Little ‘B’ to the ‘u’ to the ‘d’! Wink!” Bud winked. The words ‘Little Bud’ was scrawled at the top of the screen in curly letters. “CHILD PSYCHIC” stamped across the bottom.

           “Little Bud! Child Psychic!” Gideon announced.

           “Ugh. Gideon,” Stanford growled. “And that little Bud.”

           “Remember when I wouldn’t be his friend or cousin or whatever and he nearly killed you?” Stanley prompted.

           “As if I could forget!”

          Grauntie Mabel rolled her eyes. “The nuisance and his no-good father have been trying to trick me out of the Mystery Shack.”

           “You know,” Dan stated, “I caught Bud trying to steal my mom’s shampoo. The little guy was lucky _she_ wasn’t home.”

          Fiddleford shrugged. “And yet our mutual hatred for them bonds us together!”

          On the TV, Bud laughed and held his arms out. A flock of doves flew out from behind him. He was replaced with the curly words “Lil Gideon and Bud’s” at the top of the baby blue screen with ‘TENT ‘O’ TELEPATHY’ written in hard, straight letters below. “Come on down to Lil’ Gideon and Bud’s Tent ‘O’ Telepathy!” The screen changed to the Mystery Shack. “Openin’ soon in this location!” The Tent ‘O’ Telepathy crashed down and destroyed Shack so that only the tent was visible.

          Stanford looked back at Grauntie Mabel. “Uh, should we be worried about that?”

          Grauntie Mabel waved her hand. “Pssh. The only way he’s getting this shack is if he breaks in and steals that deed.”

          Somewhere in the house, a window shattered. Dan looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Like, uh, right now?”

          Grauntie Mabel, completely calm, stood up and walked down the hallway until she got to the room with her safe in it. Everyone else followed close to heel. Inside the room, Bud mumbled to himself as he pressed a few buttons. “Oh heavens! Open, will you? What is her password…?”

          Grauntie Mabel opened the door. “Bud!”

          Bud sat up straight and then looked back as if shocked. A devilish smile spread across his features. He stood up and held his hands behind his back. “Well, well, Mabel! How nice to see you! My archenemies. Now, it seems we’ve entered a dangerous game of cat and mouse.” Fiddleford looked at the Pines twins in confused. Stanford shrugged. Stanley rolled his eyes. “But the question remains: Who is the cat and is the–?”

           “Fiddle! Broom, please.” Grauntie Mabel held out her hand. Fiddleford gave her the broom immediately.

           “Oh no! Not the broom!” Bug gasped, eyes wide in terror. Grauntie Mabel, wielding the broom, smacked at his feet and the ground as he ran about in circles to avoid her. When he stopped and turned to face her, she smacked him in a chest a few times, covering him in dust and whatever else the broom picked up along the way.

          The boys stepped aside to allow Bud to go free as he fled, hands over his head. Grauntie Mabel stopped at the doorway to the outside. They watched as he ran out in the rain. After a few yards, he turned and yelled, “Mark my words, Mabel! We _will_ get that deed! Then all of you will rue the day you EVER messed with us! You will _never_ see this Shack ever again!” As he ranted, a smile replaced his grimace.

           “Good luck, Bucko!” Grauntie Mabel called after him and shut the door.

          Bud slunk off so that he stood under the broken window of the safe. He watched as Grauntie Mabel locked the safe again. “That little twerp. The combination is in the only place he’ll never find it: my head.”

          Bud growled and stalked off to meet his father.

          Gideon sat in his own car, quiet with the headlights turned off. When Bud opened the door and got in, he gently turned on the car and drove off. “You didn’t get the deed.”

           “No, Father.”

          Gideon growled and shook his head. “They’re much more resilient then I remember.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Mabel was always the feisty one.” His fleeting smile left. “But we have something they _don’t_ have, now don’t we?”

          Bud nodded and took out Journal 2. “She said that it was only in her head.” He opened the book and flipped to a peculiar page. “Creature #326” was written at the top. The page was dominated by a circle with another circle inside. Annotations pointed to various points around it. Ten symbols were evenly distributed around the circle- a question mark, ice bag, fish and ball silhouette, pine tree, colorful star with an eye in the center, a six-fingered hand, a llama, a shooting star, a heart with stitches, and a pair of glasses. In the center of the whole thing was a triangle with a top hat, two little arms and legs, a bow tie, and one large eye. “But your brain isn’t as safe as you think.”

 

          Rain still poured down on the Shack, even after everything calmed down. Grauntie Mabel lounged in her chair, lazily watching the television. Stanley lay down on the floor, his arms crossed over a cushion and his chin resting on his wrists. On Grauntie Mabel’s other side, Stanford was in the same position. However, a nyarf foam bullet stuck to his shoulder and a nyarf gun was in his hand. He shot idly to his left, where Dan sat. He, zombified from boredom like the rest of them, half-heartedly shot a bullet back at him.

          The TV announcer informed them, _“He put the old in the Old West! They call him…”_ The screen changed to a sun on a gold backdrop with the words “Grandpa the KID” written on it. _“Grandpa the Kid~!”_ A whiplash sounded.

          The shot changed to an old man wearing a poncho and a sombrero. “I’m tired during the day.”

           “I can relate to this,” Grauntie Mabel commented.

          Stanley sat up. “Grauntie Mabel! Why can’t we watch a movie we’ll all enjoy?” He showed off a gold and brown CD case. “Like Basketball High!”

           “Boo!” was the answer from the rest of them.

           “You learn to like it,” Stanley denied.

          A crash in the kitchen, along with a scream, caused them all to jump and turn around. Fiddleford raced into the room as if his shoes were on fire. “There’s a bat in the kitchen!” he gasped and looked back. “It… tried to touch me with its weird _bat fingers!_ ”

           “Calm down! I’ve got this under control,” Grauntie Mabel assured him. She pulled back a lever on the seat and lay back. “Ford! Go take care of it.” Stanley laughed.

           “Aw, what? Why can’t Stanley do it?” Stanford gestured to Stanley, who had a smug smile on his face.

           “Because life isn’t fair,” she answered with a shrug. “Now, go fight a bat so we can watch TV.”

          Stanford walked around so that he was standing in front of the TV and put his hands on his hips. “No way! You always make me do stupid stuff like that! I-I’m putting my foot down!” he huffed and stamped the ground with his foot.

          Grauntie Mabel sat up and leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “I said do it, kid.”

          Stanford matched her gaze and growled.

          Mabel growled back.

          Stanford crossed his arms and glared harder at her.

          She leaned forward and growled back at him, this time a bit louder.

           “Okay, okay!” Stanford stepped back, hands in front of him. “I’ll do it.” He sighed and trudged off. Grauntie Mabel leaned back in her seat again, one eye open.

          Stanford picked up the pot and spoon Fiddleford had accidently thrown out of the kitchen in his flight. Stanley joined him by the door. “Remember: Bats are more afraid of you then you are of them!”

          Stanford, shield and weapon at ready, stalked into the kitchen.

          Stanley hesitated. “Wait, am I thinkin’ of spiders?”

          Stanford screamed as the bat attacked him. Many things from the kitchen got knocked down and scattered about in the quarrel.

 

           “Ffff! Ow!” Stanford hissed as Fiddleford applied some disinfectant on his arm, just above a place wrapped up tight in bandages. Stanley wrapped some bandages around his head. “Ugh! Why does Grauntie Mabel pick on me so much?” he complained. “Think about it! The more painful or hard to do the chore is, the more likely she’ll pick me to do it!” Stanley finished the gauze and cut it off. Fiddleford finished cleaning off his arm and capped the disinfectant. “Why doesn’t she pick on any of you guys?”

          Fiddleford waved his hand. “Ford, Mabel’s way of thinking is one of life’s great mysteries. I’m sure she does what she does because she loves you.”

           “Pfft.” Stanford stuck out his tongue. He was painfully reminded of boxing practice and how his father dragged him into it. Gosh, he hated boxing. “You could’ve taken care of that bat, Stanley.”

           “Well, duh. I’m awesome.” Stanley shrugged. “But that’s not the point. Like Fiddleford said, Mabel’s mind is a great mystery. Like if it’s possible to lick your own elbow.”

          Fiddleford raised an eyebrow. “Actually, it’s not possible to lick your own elbow.”

           “You’re on!” Stanley raced out of the room, holding his arm back so that he could attempt to lick his own elbow. Fiddleford chased after him.

          Stanford looked up at a picture of Grauntie Mabel hanging near the stove. “Sometimes, I feel like Mabel hates me.”

           “Ford!” Grauntie Mabel called. “The sink’s clogged. Come clean it, please!”

          Ford growled and picked up the nyarf gun on the table. He shot a bullet at the portrait of his great aunt before stalking off to the bathroom.

 

          A few hours later, the sun was out. Under the midday sun, a picture of Mabel with her eyes crossed out by a red marker was set in the center of a clearing. Eight candles surrounded it. Gideon, the open journal in his hands, lit each candle with a match before blowing out the match and flicking it away. “You think that journal’s safe in your mind, Mabel? We’ll see what my new minion has to say about that!” He cackled and looked over the inscriptions on the page. Then, he chanted, “Triangulum, entangulum. Vene foris dominus mentium. Vene foris videntis omnium!”

 

           “Lick that elbow!” Fiddleford cheered Stanley on. They were now outside, the Mystery Shack still in sight. “Lick that elbow!”

          Stanley sighed and lowered his arm. “Wow. It really isn’t possible.”

          Gideon’s cackle reached the two from the forest.

          Stanley looked back. “Is that who I think it is?” The two boys walked into the forest and, careful not to make too much noise, approached the source of the commotion.

          Gideon double over, arms over his stomach. After making a few weird chocking, bleating noises, he fell onto his knees and raised his arms. His eyes lost their pupils and turned pure blue as he yelled, “Egassem sdrawkcab. Egassem sdrawkcab. Egassem sdrawkcab! Egassem sdrawkcab! _Egassem sdrawkcab!_ ”

          As he chanted, the world slowed down. The very words seemed to leech the life and color out of everything as the world dimmed to hues of gray and everything- from the smallest, buzzing dragonfly to a lone deer, froze in place. Fiddleford and Stanley could only watch in shock as a black triangle appeared in front of them. It grew larger and larger until it was as big as Stanley before ceasing to grow. The infinite universe spread out within its triangular shape. Small candle fires blazed around it. Then, a large, white eye with a slit pupil opened in the center. A bone chilling cackle reverberated through the forest.

          Stanley grabbed Fiddleford, slapped a hand over his mouth, and flattened them both to the ground. Even Gideon, now on his feet, winced and shrank away from the demon he summoned. He took a few steps back, though everyone knew that it was futile. The demon was right there, laughing, staring at the world. Currently, standing in the spotlight, was its summoner.

          The triangle shuttered and morphed. The fires ceased to exist. A top hat and a thin pair of arms and legs popped out of the being. The universe fell away, replaced by inky blackness. A few lines of white-lined bricks interrupted by a white bowtie filled in the triangle. “ **OH! _OH!_ GRAVITY FALLS!** ” His voice was higher pitched and it echoed in the very slightest, as if he was speaking in two very similar voices and his words were hardly milliseconds apart. He swooped down so that he was in front of Gideon, floating high enough to be just out of reach. As he stopped to a hover, his body turned yellow with darker yellow brick lines and a black bowtie. As he spoke, his body glowed in a restricted series of pale yellow lights and intensities. “ **IT IS _GOOD_ TO BE BACK!** ” He hovered a circle around Gideon, who was currently speechless. “ **THE NAME IS BILL CIPHER AND I TAKE IT YOU'RE SOME KIND OF LIVING VENTRILOQUIST DUMMY?”** He laughed. “ **I’M JUST KIDDING! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, GIDEON!** ”

          Gideon sputtered, “W-what are you? H-how do you know my name?”

          Bill’s eye widened and stared at him with an intensity that nearly made Fiddleford faint. A glowing circle of blue light swirled behind him. . “ **OH, I KNOW LOTS OF THINGS!** ” His yellow body switched in color and pattern to show cryptic locations and symbols in such rapid succession they couldn’t understand any of it. In a slower, deeper voice, he continued, “ ** _LOTS OF THINGS…_** _”_ He “stood” up straight and his body returned to its natural color. The light behind him vanished. “ **HEY, LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!** ” He gestured toward a doe just outside of the clearing. When he flicked his fingers, the doe opened her mouth and all of her teeth flew out and into his hand. He dropped the teeth in Gideon’s open hands. “ **DEER TEETH! FOR YOU!** ” He laughed at his own sadistic joke.

          Gideon screamed and dropped the teeth. “Ah! You’re insane!”

           “ **SURE I AM! WHAT’S YOUR POINT?** ” Bill twirled is fingers. The deer teeth floated back to the doe and fit back into her mouth. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned and bounded off.

          Gideon stuttered and then stamped his foot. “Listen to me, demon! I have a job for you!” He pointed his finger at the insane triangle demon. Stanley stared at him with an open mouth. Quite suddenly, fear crept into him, too. A man who could confront an insane demon like that with a laugh that could paralyze a kid too young to know true fear was either incredibly brave, or emotionally unhinged. “I need you to go into the mind of Mabel Pines and steal the code to her safe!” Stanley looked at Fiddleford, who copied him. Stanley still held a hand over his mouth. Stanley could feel them both shaking. What was this monster trying to do to their aunt?

           “ **HAHA! WAIT. MABEL PINES?”** He turned around and held his hands together, his eye narrowed. A few images flicked over his body- images of indistinguishable people with faces contorted in rage. It ended on a mysterious yellow symbol on a red background. His eye widened and then went back to normal. He turned around, his body yellow once more, and held his hands behind his back. “ **YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU’VE CONVINCED ME! I’M SOLD!** ” He swooped down so that he was right in front of Gideon, who was smiling like a child presented with candy. “ **I’LL HELP YOU WITH THIS AND, IN RETURN, YOU CAN HELP ME WITH SOMETHING I’VE BEEN WORKING ON! WE’LL WORK OUT THE DETAILS LATER.** ”

           “Deal.” Gideon held out his hand.

          Bill’s hand burst into blue flames and took Gideon’s. Blue fire spread over their hands and wrist. Bill let go and drifted back. “ **WELL! TIME TO INVADE MAE’S MIND! THIS SHOULD BE FUN!** ” He snapped his fingers. A light blazed behind him. It got larger and larger as he drifted toward it. “ **REMEMBER: REALITY IS AN ILLUSION; THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM. BUY GOLD! BYE!** ” In a flash of light, he was gone. Color returned to the world.

          Gideon gasped and opened his eyes, as if he’d fallen asleep. The boys both did the same. Stanley loosened his grip on Fiddleford in confusion. Had they been asleep this whole time? Gideon looked at his hands and then laughed. “It worked!” Stanley and Fiddleford looked at each other. This was _not good._

 

          In the Mystery Shack, Stanford swept the living room. Grauntie Mabel was fast asleep in the living room chair. She twitched and mumbled in her dreams. Stanford shook his head. “What is going on in her head?” With that, he walked off. Stanford had nearly left the living room when he came face to face with his brother and his best friend.

          He gasped and took a step back as to keep from running into them. The both of them wheezed from their sudden sprint. Their eyes were round in terror and mouths open as if they’d just come face-to-face with the pterodactyl again. “Stanford!” Stanley gasped. “We’ve got to help Mabel!”

           “What?” Stanford looked back at their sleeping great aunt.

          Fiddleford burst out, “Th-this evil triangle guy says he’s going to break into Mabel’s mind and steal the code to her safe!”

           “‘Triangle Guy’?” Stanford echoed and took out his journal. “I feel like I’ve seen this guy in the journal before…” He stopped flipping through pages as he got to a particularly messy one. A giant black triangle with one glowing white eye, a top hat, and little arms and legs dominated most of one page. “BILL CIPHER” was written at the top of the ink-splattered page where most things had been crossed out. “Beware Bill, the most powerful and dangerous creature I’ve yet encountered. Whatever you do, do not let him into your mind.” His gaze traveled to large, bold red words that had been underlines repeatedly. “DO NOT SUMMON AT ALL COSTS!!” He read, “Never let him into your mind.”

          Just then, Grauntie Mabel wheezed and twitched, as if in a deep nightmare. They turned their immediate attention to her. “Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley gasped. A large shadow of Bill swept down from the ceiling and vanished once it hit Grauntie Mabel. Her eyes glowed bright blue and they opened. She struggled and wheezed as if being attacked by a large animal.

          Stanley snatched the book from Stanford. “It’s possible to follow the demon into a person’s mind and prevent his chaos.” He flipped the page. “One must simply cite this incantation.”

           “Ugh. This is great,” Stanford muttered and crossed his arms. “I spend all day cleaning up after her and now I have to go into her mind and save her from some crazy brain demon?”

          Stanley countered, “But if we don’t do anything, Gideon might steal the Shack- or worse!”

          Stanford sighed and looked at Grauntie Mabel. “Fine. Get ready, guys: we’re about to travel into the most disturbing place anyone has ever gone: our great aunt’s mind.”

 

          Soon, the lights were out. Candles surrounded Grauntie Mabel, who slept in her chair more still than any good nap. Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford stood within the circle of candles. Stanford looked down at his journal. “Okay. In order to save our aunt, we have to follow that _dream demon_ into her mind. Ready?”

           “Ready,” the boys confirmed.

           “Okay. Now, let’s do this.” He set his hand on Grauntie Mabel’s head. Fiddleford and Stanley followed suit, though Fiddleford had to get on his very tip-toes to do so as he was relatively behind the couch seat. Stanford began to chant. As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes glowed blue. Fiddleford’s and Stanley’s eyes, as they were also holding onto Grauntie Mabel, turned blue as well. “Videntus omnium. Magister mentium. Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus. Habeas corpus!” A beacon of light blazed out of her head and flashed about the room. The candles went out with a _whoosh_ all at once. “Inceptus Nolanus overratus! Magister mentium! _Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!”_ Then, in a flash of light, they were gone.

 

          The three “woke” in a foggy gray yard. Trees, old and weathered and deep gray, towered above them and the old, run-down Mystery Shack. It’s roof and walls sagged under the weight of time. Fog, murky and opaque, writhed around them so tall and so thick, they could see nothing above or around them after about two or three yards. In fact, it was as if they’d been plunged into an old movie whose drowning sound and flickering gray pictures being played on a TV used to running colorful pictures and loud sounds.

           “Whoa,” Stanley breathed.

           “What the…?” Fiddleford looked about with round eyes.

          Stanford looked to the grass. He could see an edge to it. With a start, he realized that they weren’t in some sort of “normal” forest. They were on one island in a large series of floating chunks of land. In fact, part of the Mystery Shack was broken and teetering on the edge of one of these islands. Glitter, which had lost its sheen and color and had been mostly swallowed up by dirt and grass, sprinkled about the place. Somehow, this mindscape made glitter of all things look depressing.

          As they walked, they looked about the foreign place that looked to be a poorly translated version of the outside world. Seemingly random debris, such as torn up old seats and broken toys, fitted the weathered forest in a creepily picturesque way. If anything, it felt like something he’d see in a museum made by a photographer during World War II or the Great Depression. Stanford stared at a teeter totter nearby. One seat was fine, but the other was broken. He shuttered and looked ahead again.

          Stanley commented, “You know, I figured there would be a whole lot more hot old guys.”

          Fiddleford stated, his gaze darting about, “Remember everyone: we’ve got to look out for the triangle guy.”

           “ **YEAH! LOOK OUT FOR THE TRIANGLE GUY!** ” A higher pitched, echoing voice agreed. They jumped. Bill floated before the door of the Mystery Shack, twirling a black cane.

           “It’s him!” Fiddleford gasped and jumped back. Stanley didn’t look the least bit annoyed or exasperated at Fiddleford’s sudden panic. Stanford kept his gaze on Bill Cipher.

          Stanley bristled. “You leave our great aunt alone you isosceles monster!” Before Stanford or Fiddleford could stop him, Stanley charged the completely calm demon, who stood on the porch rather than floated. Instead of knocking him back, however, Stanley phased straight into him. Bill took out a clock on a chain, waiting a few seconds, and then put it away. Stanley appeared again, tumbling out of Bill with his arms tight around himself. “Gotcha!” he announced and looked at his arms. When he found his arms were empty, he opened his arms. “Wait, what?!” He turned around to look at Bill, who couldn’t look more relaxed and unconcerned if he tried.

          Bill set his cane on the ground and pointed a finger gun at them. “ **AH, MAE’S FAMILY, WE MEET AT LAST.** ” _May._ Why did he call Grauntie Mabel May? “ **SPECTACLES, MACKEREL, SIX-FINGERS- I HAD A HUNCH I MIGHT BUMP INTO YOU!** ” His finger sparked in red energy and a laser shot out. It tore straight through Stanford’s chest, creating a hole. Stanford screamed and put his hands on his head. He hyperventilated, too shocked for words.

          Stanley poked his hand through the hole in Stanford’s chest. “What?”

           “Hey!” Stanford shooed him away and then turned to Bill. “What do you want with our great aunt’s mind, anyway?”

          Bill, who was floating again and leaning back as if in a recliner, waved his hand. “ **OH, JUST THE CODE TO THE OLD WOMAN’S SAFE.** ” He pointed to the house. “ **INSIDE THAT HOUSE IS A MAZE OF A THOUSAND DOORS. BEHIND ONE OF THESE DOORS IS THE MEMORY OF HER IMPUTING THE CODE.** ” He leaned forward again so that he was “standing”, though his legs were bent as they did not touch the ground. “ **ALL I NEED IS THAT CODE AND GIDEON WILL PAY ME HANDSOMELY.** ”

          Stanley huffed, “Not if we stop you!”

          Bill laughed. “ **HA! FAT CHANCE.** ” His voice grew a bit more serious. “ **I’M THE MASTER OF THE MIND.** ” He burst into blue flames and held up his hands. “ **I EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING RIGHT NOW!** ”

           “That’s impossible!” Stanley accused. “No one can guess what I’m thinking!”

          Bill snapped his fingers. A light flashed around them. Stanley looked about. Nothing had been summoned. He glowered at Bill, who laughed uproariously.

          Finally, Bill was able to say, “ **YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE, KIDS.** ” His eye narrowed. “ **LEAVE BEFORE YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU REGRET.** ” He brightened. “ **LATER, SUCKERS!** ” He crashed through the front wall of the Mystery Shack.

          Stanford narrowed is eyes. “We’re going in.” He nodded his head to the door and the boys followed him inside the Mystery Shack. The words “PBVWHV VKDFN” were written on a sign above the front door. When they entered the Shack, it was… it did not look like the inside of the Shack. The trio looked about with wide eyes at the giant relativity staircase around the void. Doors with broken, floating steps leading to them suspended in mid-air. Paint, once vibrant but now faded with time and peeling, decorated the walls. “Whoa.” “What is this…?” The children hardly watched where they were going as they tried to take in the impossibility of their surroundings. Fiddleford yelled in shock as a bat with Mabel’s head swooped by him with a hiss.

           “I didn’t know there were goin’ to be _bats_ here!” Fiddleford removed his hands from his head. “Let’s just… just destroy this demon and be done with it.”

           “That’s the plan,” Stanford agreed. His gaze was drawn to a chained box. A talon-tipped hand clawed at the wood and chains. “FEARS” was scratched into the wood above it. Below, surrounded by odd things like a motorcycle helmet, cyclops skull, and old tablets with symbols on them was a nice door with a glowing, pale gold light behind it. “HOPES” was written in neat, glowing letters above it. Below it was one of the doors accessible from the broken staircase. A projector floated a few feet away. “MEMORIES” was projected onto the wooden lip of the floor of HOPES and ceiling of MEMORIES.

          They walked into the doorless hallway, passing a telegraph as they went. Various screens with various memories of Mabel’s dressed the walls. Fiddleford gasped, “Whoa, look! All of Mabel’s memories…!”

          Stanford agreed in a bitter tone, “I bet there’s plenty of Mabel bossing me around.”

           “Come on, bro!” Stanley complained. “We’ve got to find the code before Bill does!”

           “Let’s get searching!” Fiddleford announced. They scattered.

          Stanford opened a door. Within was a relatively small room in what looked to be a community center. Three people were sitting around a table. The one in the middle resembled Mabel, but way younger. She must have been in her twenties. She finished off the rainbow sweater and looked at the two girls beside her. “Georgina, Rica, you two are the best friends one could have here!” Mabel announced with one of her signature grins.

          Georgina, a girl with ruffled brown hair and eyepatch, growled something in her native language. She didn’t have a knitted sweater or yarn. She and the other girl sewed in outfits, most likely for prisoners. Rica, the short-black-haired woman on Mabel’s other side, nodded. “Sí.”

           “Nope.” Stanford shut the door.

          Fiddleford opened a door nearby.

          Mabel, this time seventeen or eighteen years old, sat on a box outside of her baby blue convertible. She interrupted her knitting to smile and wave at people. Clothes, ranging from sweaters to suits, bedecked the clothes racks and boxes around her. Few people paid attention to her or her winter clothes in the summer heat. As more and more people ignored her, Mabel sighed and concentrated on the kitten sweater she was knitting.

          Fiddleford shook his head and shut the door. “Nope.”

          Stanley opened a door to reveal Mabel, who was just about thirteen, laying on the dock on her stomach. She smiled, baring her braces. Below her, a guy her age waded in the water, grinning up at her, too. His skin was a bit darker and his midnight hair had been braided back. They were so close to each other, they could touch. Stanley shut the door. “Okay, no.”

          Stanford stopped beside a door labeled “STANFORD MEMORIES”. A glowing ‘window’ of sorts above the words were in the shape of what looked like a cut-out of his hand. “KEEP OUT!” was written across the bottom. Curious, Stanford attempted to open the door.

          Fiddleford came up behind him. “Uh, I don’t think you should do that.”

           “I just want to know what the old gal really thinks of me,” Stanford defended.

          Stanley waved his hand as he passed. “We already know what Mabel feels about us. She loves us!”

           “Yeah,” Fiddleford agreed. “Let’s just keep movin’.”

          Stanford looked back at the partially open door but followed Fiddleford and Stanley anyway. However, once they got far enough away, Stanford turned and darted into the hallway behind the door. “Okay, just one quick peek,” he promised himself. Mabel’s voice echoed down the haunting hall, most of her words laced with his name.

          Stanford opened a door and looked inside. “No buts!” Mabel denied. “Now go chop that firewood already!” Memory-Stanford stalked off the porch and to the yard, where an ax was in a chopping block. A pile of uncut firewood was to one side. Stanford huffed in agitation. He remembered this. Why did they even need firewood? Why couldn’t Grauntie Mabel just get a heater?

          Mabel sat down beside Fiddleford. Fiddleford piped up, “So, uh, Ms. Pines. I was meanin’ to ask you… Why are you so hard on Ford all the time?”

          Mabel turned to him. “Look, Fiddle, I’m going to let you in on something.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned down so that her voice wouldn’t carry into the yard. Stanford had to get extremely close to the doorway to hear what they were saying. “…the kid’s a loser! He’s an utter embarrassment! I just want to get rid of him…”

          Stanford turned his gaze down and shut the door. He took a deep breath as his throat constricted. Was that really what Grauntie Mabel thought of him? She… she thought he was a _loser?_ Stanford made a huffing noise that might have resembled a laugh. _Just as well, I supposed. Everyone else thinks so._

          He balled his hands into fists and, sticking his fists into his jacket, stalked out of the hallway. He forced himself to calm down as his heartbreak turned into cool anger.

 

          Fiddleford stuck close to Stanley’s side. “Where could that code be?” He opened a random door. Mabel clicked a few random buttons in the vending machine. They ended up making the shape of an arrow. It creaked open. She, wielding a lantern, went inside. Her hand caught on the lip of vending machine. “If only people knew that behind this vending mach–”

           “Nope.” Fiddleford shut the door and hurried to join Stanley. They ended up at a small trapdoor on the wall labeled “TOP SECRET”.

          Stanley gestured to the door, “I have a good feeling about this one!” Stanley opened the door and then immediately shut it.

           “What?” Fiddleford prompted. “Was there something bad?”

          Stanley shut his eyes and nodded. “Yes. Very, very bad.” Thank goodness he’d only opened the door long enough to see the running shower and nothing else.

           “Oh gosh,” Fiddleford sighed. “This is takin’ forever! I hope that triangle guy doesn’t find the code before we do.”

           “If we want to find Mabel’s memory, we’ve got to think like Mabel,” Stanley stated, and narrowed his eyes. He put a finger to his chin. “Hmm… she’s always hiding stuff, right?”

          Fiddleford perked up. “Yeah! Like how she hides those weird papers she won’t let me see under the mat in the gift shop.”

           “What weird papers?” Stanley prompted. “Uh- wait! That’s it, man!” He pointed to a rug down another hallway. This one matched the one in the gift shop, save for being monotone. He took the rug and swept it back. Fiddleford stood next to him, eyes round as he gazed upon the trap door hidden beneath it.

          They opened the door and looked inside. Grauntie Mabel, the deed curled up in her hands, walked over to the safe and opened it. She knelt down and looked over the Deed. Her thumb cut off some of the signature, but really it didn’t make a difference. Her signature was awful- they could only make out the ‘Ma’, though the ‘a’ looked a bit shady. She set it in the safe with a quick, “There you go!” and shut it. “And now to input the code:” she pressed buttons as she spoke. “Thirteen, forty-four, and finally…” Fiddleford shut the trap door, causing Stanley to recoil as he was nearly hit with it.

           “Hey!” Stanley complained.

           “Ha-ha! We found it!” Fiddleford boasted.

          Stanley nodded. “Yeah, but what now? Uh… let’s just destroy it before Bill can find it!” He turned around and dragged an ax out from the hands of a suit of armor. Fiddleford’s smile left him as he watched Stanley struggle with the weapon.

           “Uh- wait!” Stanley hesitated as Fiddleford held out his arm. “Maybe I can help you!”

           “Oh. Yeah, sure. It’s pretty heavy,” Stanley accepted and moved his hands. Fiddleford walked around him. However, he didn’t take the ax. He held his hand out and stared at the door. It shuttered, glowed blue, and floated into the air. Stanley watched him in confusion.

           “Ohmygoshyou’reherethankyou!” Stanley turned to see Fiddleford run around a corner and stop by his side. “I just got chased by this weird bat thing and-” He stopped as he locked eyes with himself. Fiddleford holding the trapdoor stared back at him. The other Fiddleford’s relief melted away. “Uh… what’s going on here?”

          Fiddleford with the trapdoor laughed. This time, it wasn’t his squeaky, prepubescent voice marked by the faint drawl of a Tennessee farmer. It was high pitched, yes, but it echoed and turned their blood to ice. Fiddleford with the door transformed into Bill. The boys yelled in sudden shock and jumped back. Bill waved the trap door around him. “ **BOY, YOU KIDS ARE GULLIBLE! I KNEW YOU’D LEAD ME STRAIGHT TO THE CODE!** ” He cackled in glee and then looked down at them again. “ **IT’S FUNNY HOW DUMB YOU ARE.** ” He looked at the trapdoor in his hands. “ **AH THE COMBINATION TO MAE’S SAFE. BOY! THAT WAS EVEN EASIER THAN I THOUGHT!** ”

          Stanley, his face reddened slightly from being insulted and tricked _again_ , growled, “Well y-you’re a… a… stupid math problem!”

          Bill snickered and then, with a wave of his hand, announced, “ **LATER, SUCKERS!** ” He whipped around and flew up a set of stairs.

           “Come on!” Stanley turned to Fiddleford. “We’ve got to save Mabel!”

           “What’s the point?” They turned to see Stanford stalking down a staircase. “Why should I save her? I work for Mabel day and night and all she does in return is say that she wants to get rid of me.” He crossed his arms. Fiddleford, deflated, his eyes round and mouth open in utter devastation. When he tried to speak, Stanford glared at him.

           “Ford, we know that’s not true,” Stanley denied with a shake of his head.

           “It is true!” Stanford countered. “I saw it in one of his memories! Mabel hates me!” Fiddleford gasped. Stanley lost his tough composure for the slightest moment.

          Stanley shook his head. “Listen, bro: it doesn’t matter what you saw. If we don’t stop Bill, we’ll lose the Shack!”

           “No,” Stanford stated. “For once, this is one of Mabel’s mistakes that I’m _not_ cleaning up.” He turned around and glared off into the hallway.

          Stanley’s gaze hardened. “Fine. We’ll go save Mabel ourselves. Come on, Fidds!” Stanley stalked up the stairs.

          Fiddleford hesitated as he passed Stanford. “I… I’m sorry. You’re a great guy, Ford, but this… isn’t great.” He followed Stanley up the stairs. Stanford refused to look in their direction, though his gaze softened.

          Bill swept through one of the hallways, opening all of the doors in his wake. He stopped on a landing and looked back. His bowtie shuttered and rung. Bill immediately turned his attention to his bowtie, which expanded into a screen on his chest. “ **YEEEELLOW?** ” Bill prompted, his black top hat, arms, and legs flashing a bright shade of yellow at the word.

           “Bill!” Gideon demanded. “Did you find the memory with the combination yet?”

           “ **CALM DOWN, SHORT-STACK. I’VE GOT IT RIGHT HERE,** ” Bill reassured him.

           “Good! Give me the code, and I’ll fulfill _my_ end of the bargain,” Gideon promised.

          Bill held out the trapdoor and opened it. “ **GOOD! NOW- GOT A PEN THERE?** ” Gideon took out a pen and pad of paper. “ **IT’S THIRTEEN… FORTY-FOUR…** ” Bill listed off and squinted at the memory. A nyarf bullet hit the trapdoor and knocked it out of Bill’s hand. “ **NO! OH NO!** ” He tried to chase after it. However, it fell through a memory and straight into the Bottomless Pit.

          Mabel interrupted her speech over the Bottomless Pit to watch the trapdoor sail down. “Oh! Welp, whatever that was, it’s gone forever.” The door slammed shut.

          Bill stared at it, both hands on the sides of his “head”. Gideon stared at it, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. They looked back. Stanley held up a nyarf gun, laughing. Fiddleford stood behind him, a forced smirk on his face and chest puffed out. “Boom!” Stanley laughed. “Bull’s eye!”

           “The Shack is safe!” Fiddleford cheered.

          Gideon glared up at Bill. “Deal’s off!”

           “ **NO, WAIT!** ” Bill exclaimed.

           “I’m switchin’ to Plan B!” Gideon announced. The screen turned to static.

          Bill cracked and then fell apart, leaving only a floating eye and limbs. He glared back at the children and reformed. This time, he was red and his once black limbs and top hat were white. His eye was black and pupil white. “ **YOU!** ” He turned on them. The boys lost their cheer. “ **YOU CAN’T EVEN _IMAGINE_ WHAT YOU JUST COST ME!** ” His hands burst into red-gold flames and his eye narrowed. “ **DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT’S I’M LIKE…** ” his voice deepened. “ ** _WHEN I’M MAD?_** ” His pupil turned gold and switched between all types of symbols that glowed. The symbols reflected off the two kids.

          A ring of golden fire ran in circle around them and, once it touched Bill, flared yards high. Bill raised his arms. He raised a giant rock in the shape of Mabel’s head, face deepened in irritation, into the “sky”. The fire died out. He grew and grew until he towered over the two boys. Electricity buzzed over his body and exploded from his hands. _“ **EAT NIGHTMARES!** ”_

          The two boys yelled in fright and ran back as far as they could without falling.

 

          Stanford walked through the hallways. “Ugh. How do I get out of here?” he muttered to himself and started opening random doors. “Exit? Hello?” He came across one of him chopping wood. “Ugh. This.”

           “He’s a loser. He’s weak. I just want to get rid of him.”

          Stanford began to shut the door.

           “Heh. Yep. Those are all things people said about me when I was a girl.”

           “Huh?” Stanford opened the door and looked up at her.

           “It was terrible. I was the biggest wimp on the playground.” A door opened behind him. Stanford turned around. It was raining out. Mabel, hair pulled up in a cute ponytail, looked up into the eyes of three bullies. She couldn’t have been older than seven, maybe eight. Rain poured down around her. One shoved her, causing her bag to splash into the mud. She fell and hit her head against the hard cement. Sniffling, she picked up her ruined bag and fled.

           “So, one summer, my parents signed me up for martial arts.” Another door opened. Mabel, now twelve, stood on a red man on the floor. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail. Her braces glinted in the light as she smiled. She, like everyone else, wore white, loose outfits. “I thought my parents _hated_ me! It was much worse than the school ground!” Her opponent dashed around her and knocked her down. She rolled over and kicked him in the chest, causing him to stumble back.

           “But one day… heh. One day, I found out that wasn’t true.” Another door opened. Mabel stood in line to a movie theater. Her bright eyes stared at the line ahead and she gripped her sticker-covered, glittery bag. A kitten sticker was stuck to her left cheek. A teenage boy, an older one at probably seventeen or eighteen, garbed in black leather snuck up behind her. He grabbed her bag with a quick, “Hand it over!”

          Mabel turned to face him and, pulling the bag back, raised one foot and kicked him in the square in the face. He went sprawling on the dirty street. “Don’t you know it’s wrong to steal?” Teenage-Mabel huffed. The crowd around her cheered.

          Adult-Mabel went on, “So, you see, _that’s_ why I’m hard on Ford- to toughen him up! So, when the worlds fights, he fights back.”

          Stanford couldn’t help but smile.

          Fiddleford prompted, “Do you think it’s actually working?”

          In the yard, Memory-Stanford hit the ax against the chopping block one last time. The firewood split. “I- I did it! YEAH!” Memory-Stanford whooped in victory. The real Stanford smiled. He remembered that feeling of pride at his accomplishment.

           “The boy’s coming along,” Mabel agreed. “You know, when push comes to shove, I’m actually _very_ proud of him. Just, don’t tell him I said that! His head’s pretty big as it is!” she joked and elbowed Fiddleford, who laughed.

          Stanford set his hand on the surface of the memory. It rippled. However, when he tried to put some force on it to stand up straight, he ended up falling straight through. Stanford gasped as he stumbled onto the porch and looked up at Grauntie Mabel. Grauntie Mabel looked at him, Memory-Stanford, and then back at him. “Ford, what are you doing here? Nice hole in your chest, by the way! I think I can fix that.” She pointed her finger to the hole in his chest. It disappeared.

          Stanford looked down at his chest and then at Grauntie Mabel. “How did you do that?”

           “Word to the wise, kiddo,” Grauntie Mabel answered, “It’s the mind! You can do whatever you can imagine!” She waved her hand. A dozen kittens appeared on the couch on her lap.

           “Would you look at that,” Stanford breathed, his smile wide. The mindscape was so cool! Ah, if only he had time to study it some more! However, he should probably be getting back to–

           “Agh!” Fiddleford’s scream, accompanied by Bill’s maniacal laughter and flashes of red light, burned through the hallways. “Make it stop! Ahhh!” Stanley yelled something, though he couldn’t make out the words.

           “Oh no! What am I doing?! I need to defeat Bill!” Stanford raced out of the memory.

          Mabel smirked. “Heh. Finally fighting back.”

 

          Bill pointed his finger at Fiddleford. Bill reverted to his old, high pitched voice, though he stayed giant and red. “ **ONE NIGHTMARE, COMING UP!** ”

           “Oh no,” Fiddleford squeaked.

          The laser blasted him and nearly made him fall off the edge. Stanley caught him and pulled him back up. Fiddleford shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Agk! My eyes.”

          _“Are you okay?”_ Stanley’s words were a muttered, slurred message. It was as if Fiddleford had been plunged underwater. Everything turned into mumbling, echoing background noise. He opened his eyes and looked up. He wasn’t in the dreamscape anymore. He was out in the yard. “Are you serious?!” Fiddleford jumped and looked up at Stanley, who stood only a foot away. Stanley glared at him with an uncharacteristic petulance. “You’re such a coward! Look what you did!” Stanley’s voice had a slight, harsh echo. Other words were seemed to be spoken, but they were drowned by this hatred the illusion cast. His gaze traveled to the yard. Grauntie Mabel glared at him as well. She stood by her car, which had been destroyed by a giant monster. A cage, utterly broken, was nearby. “If you weren’t such a coward, then that monster wouldn’t have gotten out. He wouldn’t have taken my brother! Because of _you_ he could be dead!”

 

           “Fidds!” Stanley called, standing right in front of him. Fiddleford stared ahead with wide eyes. His irises had changed from sky blue to a bright gold. Fiddleford visibly shook. Tears glimmered in his eyes. “Fidds snap out of it!” he yelled and grabbed him by the shoulders.

          Fiddleford shrieked and jumped back. He ended up falling back on the stone. “No! NO! NO! NO! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t- I’m sorry! No! I didn’t mean to!” He put his hands on his head and shut his eyes tight.

          Bill turned his gaze on Stanley. “ **YOU'RE TURN!** ” A maniacal, twisted glee was in his hate-filled voice. A laser from his finger zapped him, too.

          Stanley held onto his head and groaned. “Agk…! What did you do?” Stanley opened his eyes and looked up at Bill. Bill turned into a red blur. Stanley rubbed his eyes. It was no use. His vision dulled significantly. He felt weak on his legs. “What’s happening?!” Then, there was one thing he could see clearly. When he turned around, his irises flashed gold. Behind him was a mirror. Although he knew it as a mirror, it wasn’t his reflection that he saw. A old man who looked exactly like his father stared back at him. “Oh no.”

           “ **NOW TO FINISH YOU OFF ONCE AND FOR ALL!** ” Bill crowed. Lightening burst over his hands and crackled in the air. The two boys turned to him.

          Then, Stanford zoomed up. He, like Bill, floated. Blue light surrounded the boy as he floated above them. “Hey! Bill!”

           “ **WHAT?!** ” Bill lost the lightning in his hand and recoiled in shock.

           “Nice bowtie!” Stanford sneered and then burned a hole through Bill with lasers from his eyes. Bill screamed in shock.

          Stanley’s smile returned. “Ford!”

          Fiddleford shook his head. His eyes flickered from gold to blue and back again. The yard became a fuzzy blur and started turning shades of gray and black as if someone had taken a picture of the yard, put it on top of the rock and night sky background, and lowered the opacity. Stanley was no longer glowering at him. Stanford floated above them, his smile wide and eyes turned on him. “S-Stanford? Ford!”

          Stanford landed beside them. “I just learned that you can conjure whatever you can imagine in Grauntie Mabel’s mind!”

           “Huh?” Stanley asked.

           “Just think of something and it will happen! Like this!” Stanford pointed his finger at his brother. Suddenly, Stanley could see again. He looked over himself. Yep! He looked like Stanley alright!

           “ **NO! DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!** ” Bill waved his hands in front of him a clear “NO” fashion.

           “Anything?” Fiddleford breathed. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, they were a clear, bright blue. He was on the stone-Mabel-head in what looked like space. He cheered and jumped up.

           “Yeah! Like fire balls!” Stanley forced a ball in his hand and shoved it forward. His hands, alight in flame, threw a ball of fire at Bill.

          Bill sputtered and yelled as he was thrown back. Stanford held his hands up like he wielded his crossbow. A blue light manifested itself into the shape of a crossbow. He shot a few bolts at Bill, laughing as they dug themselves into his hand and arm. Bill growled, regenerated himself, and landed heavily on the rocks. “ **ENOUGH GAMES!** ” His eye turned into a laser and burned the ground.

          Fiddleford held out his hands. “E-er- G-Gobblewonker shield thing!” A mist swirled before them and solidified into the giant aquatic monster. It’s massive see-through body lay between Bill and the three boys. It snapped its head at him, which caused the laser his eye had turned into to fracture. The laser reflected from the monster’s throat and burned his eye.

           “ **AGK! OH, MY EYE! AH!** ” Bill cried, hands over his smoking eye.

          The Gobblewonker shrieked and patted the stone.

          Stanford landed beside the two boys. “Now to imagine _Bill’s_ worst nightmare: a portal out of Mabel’s mind! Everyone! Together!” He shut his eyes tight and tensed, focusing his entire mind on a portal out of his great aunt’s mind. Stanley and Fiddleford did the same. The Gobblewonker snapped his teeth and shut its eyes as well.

           “ **NO, NO, NO! ENOUGH!** ” Bill waved his arms. Everything turned white. They floated, completely away from anything physical. The gobblewonker “dove” and then swam circles around the trio. Bill turned yellow again. “ **YOU KNOW, I’VE BEEN IMPRESSED WITH YOU GUYS. YOU ARE MORE CLEVER THAN YOU LOOK- EVEN THE DUMB ONE.** ” Stanley gasped and glowered at him, as did Stanford and Fiddleford. “ **SO, I’M GOING TO LET YOU OFF THE HOOK. BUT KNOW THIS:** ” He held up his hands. A pine tree silhouette glowed over him. “ **A DARKNESS APPROACHES. A DAY WILL COME IN THE FUTURE WHEN EVERYTHING YOU CARE ABOUT WILL CHANGE!** ” he clapped his hand and the pine tree dissolved into a puff of blue flame. He tipped his hat to the kids. “ **UNTIL THEN, I’LL BE WATCHING YOU!** ” He shrunk and shifted until he was a perfect triangle. The wheel with the symbols appeared around him. Each one became to glow in rapid succession so that it looked as if the wheel was spinning. His voice slowed down, “ ** _I’LL BE WATCHING YOU…_** ” With that, the demon was gone.

           “He’s gone!” Stanford cheered. “We did it!” He high-sixed Stanley, who rubbed Fiddleford’s head. They laughed and cheered in their victory.

          Then, they began to fizzle and flicker. “Oh!” Stanford exclaimed. “Mabel must be waking up.”

 

          Stanford felt the soft carpet under his fingers. The three children stood up with a yell.

           “We did it!” Stanley cried.

           “What? Did what?” Grauntie Mabel asked and sat up. Her messy hair fell around her shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

           “Grauntie Mabel!” Stanford cried. The three ran up to greet her. Stanford hugged her. She hugged him back.

          She eventually picked Stanford up and set him down on the T-Rex skull beside him. “You did good,” she congratulated. Stanford smiled back, though he said nothing.

          Stanley sighed. “Yeah. At least Gideon didn’t get into the safe! I love this old place.”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, me, too! I like the people here, too.”

          Stanley punched him in the shoulder, causing him to wince. “That’s what I thought, dork! Hehe, you’re our friend, too.”

          The ground rumbled. Stanford looked about. “Hey, do you guys feel tha- ah!” They screamed as a wall next to them exploded. The Pines family, scattered over the living room floor, looked up.

          Bud stood, silhouetted against the light. The deed was in his hands. “Oh, I’m sorry! Did I wake you?” He gave them a fake look of concern that very quickly turned into a cynical smile.

           “But we defeated Bill!” Stanford pointed out.

           “Bill failed us!” Bud agreed. “So, we switched to Plan B: Dynamite!”

           “Wh-what? Bill? Who?” Grauntie Mabel stuttered and sat up. “What are you guys talking about?”

           “Spoiler alert, Mabel: I got the deed!” Bud held out the deed for them to see. “The Mystery Shack belongs to me! So, get off my property!” Bud took out a Walkie-Talkie and, staring them straight in the eyes, said, “Daddy, bring it around the front.” He turned and walked off, leaving the family to stare after him in shock and horror.

           “D-don’t worry, guys!” Stanford stammered with a scared smile. “It’s just part of the dream! We’re going to wake up any second now! Right? Right?”

          From the road, a wrecking ball barreled toward the Shack. They fled the house. Grauntie Mabel grabbed Fiddleford by the nap of his shirt when he stumbled and pushed Stanford forward to keep them moving until they were at a safe distance.

          Gideon, controls on the machine, drove it straight up the Mystery Shack. The wrecking ball smashed through the “MYSTERY SHACK” sign. The group could do nothing but watch the nightmare unfold before them.

 

21-14-20-9-12 14-5-24-20 **20** -9-13-5…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes I did! Meet _a_ Bill! I've never liked you, Bill! Go back to where you _is_ belong. You have no dominion here. Anyway, I kinda _one_ tweaked Bill's powers a bit, sorry. I didn't think _z_ an English Bulldog would fit here, but you _is_ do get to see some comparison between Stanley and Filbrick! Also, Stanford _twenty-six_ being very interested in the mindscape was something I've been thinking about for ages, now. Also: Those Gleeful skunks stink.


	20. Bud Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gleefuls have taken forced ownership of the Mystery Shack. The Pines have been kicked out and now stay with the McGuckets that live in Gravity Falls. The sun shines in the sky, but will Stanley and Stanford stay long enough to watch the moon glow over Gravity Falls one last time...?
> 
> ( ***IMPORTANT QUESTION IN NOTES BELOW*** )

          The midday sun blazed over the Valley. Although the birds sang and the wind whispered through the trees, a great cloud shadow fell over the town of Gravity Falls. The Mystery Shack, still creaky and sagging under the weight of decades of life, grew dark under the cloud shadow. Then, most of the top of the roof shattered as a wrecking ball swung through it.

 

          _“Aaaah!”_ Stanford sat up, his breath coming in wheezing gasps. He put a hand to his chest. “Oh my gosh… I just had the worst dream.” He put a hand on his head. “Gideon stole the deed to the Mystery Shack and kicked us out and… we had to move in with Fidds’ grandpa.”

          Stanley, blearily from sleep, sat up next to him. Nearby, Fiddleford was up and alert. A nightlight sent his shadow across the living room. “Huh…? Ford? Oh, I’m sorry.” Fiddleford yawned and stared at him with soft eyes. “That… wasn’t a dream.”

          Stanley rubbed his eyes and looked at his brother. They slept in two sleeping bags near Fidd’s couch. For some reason, Fiddleford didn’t want to sleep in his bed tonight. “Yeah, bro. That… that wasn’t part of the dream.”

          The light turned on, causing them all to wince. “Boys?” They looked to the door. An older man, his shaggy white hair going over his eyes and his beard touching his lower chest, stood at the door. “You fellas alright?”

          Stanford nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Mr. McGucket. Just a bad dream.”

          Grauntie Mabel stood up and brushed her hair back with her fingers. “It’s okay, Ford. Look I… let’s see if the news in on.”

          The TV in the living room turned on. Shandra Jimenez stood in front of the Mystery Shack. “In a movement that has all of Gravity Falls buzzing, child psychic Bud Gleeful-” The picture showed Bud smiling and holding one of four puppies around him. It soon changed to a picture of the Mystery Shack. “-has taken surprise ownership of the Mystery Shack, previously owned by-” The picture changed to Grauntie Mabel in a devil suit, gripping a trident and waving her arms and legs as if exaggeratedly stomping through a toy city. “-Mabel Pines.”

           “That’s out of context,” Grauntie Mabel denied.

          The shot turned to Shandra Jimenez and Gideon Gleeful. Bud was at his side, a cute smile on his face and his bright eyes watching the reporter with the look of a kid who just got a puppy for Christmas. A button with Bud Gleeful’s smiling face was on the reporter’s chest. “Now that you have the Shack, what exactly are you planning on doing with it?”

          The camera zoomed in on Gideon. “We have a _big_ announcement for today!” he announced, his smile wide. “We’d like to cordially invite all the good people of Gravity Falls to join us.” He held up a pin with Bud’s face on it. “Free admission to anyone who wears their Bud pins!”

          Bud smiled and winked. “It’s my face!”

          Stanford stared at the TV. “I just can’t believe Gideon beat us.” He put his head in his hands. “Normally we’re able to save the day.” He remembered his time in the Dreamscape. Had he been there sooner… had they taken Gideon and Bud more seriously… “It’s all my fault.”

           “Don’t worry, Ford!” Stanley announced. “I guess it’s Stanley’s turn to be the hero of the family, now! I’ll defeat them with my-” He took out Mabel’s grappling hook from by his bed. “-grappling hook!”

           “Hey, whoa!” Grauntie Mabel gasped. “Where’d you get that?”

          Stanley smirked. “I grabbed it when we left.”

           “Uh, no offense, Stanley,” Stanford started. “But that’s never helped us once.”

           “Your crossbow never helped us once,” Stanley countered.

           “I’m not going to shoot Bud or Gideon.”

           “Well… I’m sorry ya’ll lost the Shack,” Fiddleford started and then smiled. “But, look on the bright side! You can still stay here with us- my grandpa and I.”

          Mr. McGucket chuckled. “You’re welcome to stay with us as long as ya need.”

          Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Thank you for being so kind. It’s no wonder Fiddle’s the best behaved boy I’ve ever met.” Her smile faded. “But we still need to find a way to get the Shack back.”

 

          The late morning came around. A tall, chain-link fence now surrounded the Mystery Shack. “MYSTERY SHACK GRAND CLOSING” was on a sign above the entrance gate. In front of the Shack, on the very same stage where Grauntie Mabel showed off Stanford’s and Stanley’s wax sculpture and the Rock That Looks Like a Face, Gideon stood on stage, flanked by two men from the biker joint downtown. People from all over town swarmed the stage.

          Bud jumped out a spring with his and his father’s faces and stood in front of the crowd. “Hello, Gravity Falls!”

          The crowd cheered as he made his entrance. Lazy Susan stopped clapping. “Bud is the psychic-est! He guessed the secret ingredient to my coffee omelet!”

          Thompson Determined nodded. “Somehow he knew about my horrifying secret birthmark!”

           “Tough Girl” Wendy hugged Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland around the neck. “I love that child psychic SO MUCH!”

          The two officers choked and struggled in her grasp. Sheriff Blubbs gasped, “You’re choking us!”

          Deputy Durland, turning purple, wheezed, “Grandma? Is that you?”

           “We’re in,” Stanford breathed. The four of them stood at the back of the crowd, disguised in trench coats, hats, and mustaches.

           “You know, I don’t know why we’re here,” Stanley commented and then twirled his mustache. “But I’m lovin’ this mustache.”

           “Ladies and gentlemen!” Bud called. Gideon wheeled a tarp-covered object on a box over to Bud. “Today we are delighted to reveal our plans for the Mystery Shack. We give you…” Bud grabbed the tarp in his hands and pulled back. An entire mini amusement park glinted in the sunlight. A mini rollercoaster ran over its tracks and the Bud Statue’s head rotated. “-Gleeful land!” The robot Bud held in his hands a sign that read “Gleefulland”.

           _“What?”_ Mabel, Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford gasped.

           “We’re gonna turn this dirty ol' shack into three square miles of Gleeful-tertainment,” Bud announced, holding an ice cream stick in the shape of his face. He waved his hand back, “And introducin’ our new mascot, Little Bud Jr.!” Gideon, who held something in one hand and a tarp in the other, pulled the tarp back. Sitting on his hand, head drooping from exhaustion was little Gompers. A toupee dressed his head and an outfit to match Bud’s. “Boom! He’s a goat!”

           “Gompers!” Stanford breathed. “You monster.”

           “Alright, that’s it!” Grauntie Mabel took off her hat and tore off her trench coat as she stalked through the crowd. The boys immediately followed suit. They jumped on stage, where Grauntie Mabel got behind the podium. Stanley kicked a Little Bud and Gideon cardboard cut out off the stage. Fiddleford stopped before he could jump up and decided to stay off stage. “Listen up, people! Gideon and Bud are a fraud! That kid broke into my house and stole the deed to our house!”

           “Arrest him officers!” Stanley demanded.

           “Yeah!” Stanford agreed.

          Bud waddled over to them, his teal eyes round. “Such accusations! Ms. Pines, I recall you gave the property to us.” He pulled out the Deed. “Look! Here’s the Deed right here!”

           “Well, that’s all the proof I need to see,” Sheriff Blubbs answered. Stanford gave him a flat glare. He nearly forgot how lazy those cops were.

          Deputy Durland yelled, “I love you Little Bud! Sing them funny songs!”

          Gideon snapped his fingers and pointed to the original owners of the Shack. The two burly men picked up Mabel, Stanford, and Stanley. Bud slapped a button on her chest. “Now get off my property old woman!”

           “I’ll show _you_ who’s the old woman- agh!” Grauntie Mabel grimaced in pain and put a hand to her ear. “Ow! My hearing aid!”

           “Bye, ya’ll!” Bud called with a wave. “Thanks for visiting Gleefulland!” He lowered his hand. “Now don’t come back. We don’t care for ya’ll.”

          Grauntie Mabel, Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford now stood outside the property so close to the fence they could touch it. They sighed and turned away from it. Stanford kicked a rock. “Don’t worry! We’ll get the Shack back, somehow!”

           “We better.” They turned to see Dan approach. He leaned against the chain link fence next to Stanford.

           “Dan!”

           “If I can’t work here,” Dan explained, “My mom’s going to force me to work upstate at my cousin’s logging camp.”

           “What? You’re leaving town? But we need you here!” Stanley gasped.

           “Just as well,” Fiddleford sighed. “My dad wants me to go ta Tennessee with my cousin Thistlebert ta help out on the farm again. I only stayed here to help run the Shack.”

           “So, everyone’s leavin’?” Stanley asked, shoulders slumped, and eyes wide.

          Music blared from somewhere in the trees.

           “Ugh.” Dan put a hand on his cheek to block his face. “Don’t look now.”

          Janice, holding a boom box, walked out of the brush. “Take me back, Dan! My arms can’t keep holding this boom box forever!”

           “I was never here.” Dan put on his helmet, jumped onto his bicycle, and left.

           “Have you been getting my texts?” Janice called as she chased Dan. “Do I need to send more texts?”

 

          Stanford and Stanley sat next to each other on the couch close enough so that their shoulders brushed. Fiddleford sat on the couch, too. Mr. McGucket was in a loveseat a little bit away from the couch. “Kids, ya’ll are welcome here as long as you need ta stay,” Mr. McGucket stated. “But I reckon I’ll need more food than I can give.”

          Stanley nodded and sighed. “Where are we going to stay?”

          Stanford didn’t look up from his lap. “What’s Grauntie Mabel going to tell our parents?”

           “Ah Ms. Pines will figure somethin’ out,” Fiddleford comforted. “She always does.”

          From in the dark kitchen, Grauntie Mabel looked back at them. Holding a landline phone up to her ear, she strolled back into the kitchen. “Don’t worry, your sons are fine. … Where are we staying?” Grauntie Mabel looked about. “We’re at this amazing four-star hotel!” A roach fried as it touched an open wire on the counter. A sign beside it said: “DON’T TOUCH; GOING TO FIX -Fiddleford”

          Grauntie Mabel opened the fridge door. “Uh? What? Yeah, sure we have, uh,” She held up a mostly empty milk bottle and shook it. “-plenty to eat.” She put it back and shut the door. “Relax! If I thought I couldn’t take care of these kids for even a second, I’d send them straight back home. Uh-huh. Love you, Fil. Tell Ma I said hi.” She put down the phone down.

           “Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley called. “Can we order pizza?”

          Grauntie Mabel opened her empty pockets and sighed.

 

          Nighttime fell over the sleepy town. Construction was still at full swing at the Mystery Shack. A mostly built Bud statue was beside the Mystery Shack.

          Bud chucked a framed picture of Grauntie Mabel, Stanford, and Stanley fishing into the fire. The glass shattered and the photo curled and burned. He cackled as he looked over the pages of the journal. In the background, Gompers approached a window. He jumped up as high as he could. Unfortunately, without his usual box under the window, his hooves managed to hit the window and open it but do nothing more. “Huh?” Bud turned to look at the goat. He blew on a whistle, which caused the goat to stop what he was doing. Bud pointed to the corner. “Back in your corner! Now!” Gompers darted to the corner of the room and, shivering, lay down.

          Gideon walked into the room. “Bud, I’m just as excited as you, but you really should go to bed.”

           “But I can’t!” Bud turned around, the journal clutched to his chest. “The other journal is hidden somewhere on this very property! We’re so close to bringing them together and unlocking the secrets of the universe!”

           “Yep,” Gideon agreed. “And we intend to find it. But, boy, if you stay up all night, you’ll be darn useless in the search tomorrow.”

 

          In Fiddleford’s house, they sat in his room. Stanley and Fiddleford watched the circle race-car track for two red race cars in front of them. “Go red car!” Fiddleford cheered on the dead-battery car.

           “Go other red car!” Stanley agreed. The other red car was out of batteries.

           “This would be more fun with batteries,” Stanford pointed out. Fiddleford took the first car and pushed it. It did a circuit before bumping into the other one.

          Grauntie Mabel walked into the room. She cleared her throat. “Kids: we’ve got to talk.” The kids turned to attention to her and stood up. “Look, I’ve been thinking and… and I can’t take care of you, anymore. I don’t have a house or a job… the plan is… you’re going home.” She pulled out two bus tickets. “The bus will be here, tomorrow. Here are your tickets.”

           “Grauntie Mabel!” Stanford shook his head. “You can’t say that!”

          Fiddleford nodded. “You can’t give up! Not now!”

           “Look, I lost, okay? The best thing is to be with your parents.” She set the tickets down on the nightstand and turned around. “I’m sorry, kids. Gideon won. Summer’s over.” She walked out.

          Fiddleford darted outside. “Ms. Pines! Come back! Reconsider!” He shut the door behind him as he left.

           “Stanley! That’s enough!” Stanford stamped his foot on the ground. “If Mabel won’t get our house back, we will!”

           “Gideon may have the upper hand,” Stanley agreed. “But we have something he doesn’t!”

           “The journal!” Stanford took out Journal Three.

 

          The next morning, Stanford and Stanley hid in the bushes near the chain-link fence around their Shack. Stanford held a pair of binoculars in his hands. The guards stalked back and forth in front of it. “The bus that will take us out of here comes at sundown. If we want to stay in town, we’ve got to get past those guards, get over that fence, and get that deed!” Stanford put down the binoculars and took out his book. “Okay. What can we use to take out Gideon?” He opened the book to the page over the Gremloblin. He flipped through a few pages. “Barf fairy?”

           “Yeah!”

           “Er… no.” He flipped another page. “Butternut Squash with Human Face and Emotions?”

          Stanley shook his head. “Nope.”

           “Nope,” Stanford agreed and flipped through another page.

           “Whoa! What’s this?” Stanley pointed to a full two pages of symbols and weird drawings and angles.

           “I’ve stared at this for _hours._ It seems like some strange, futurist weapon,” Stanford explained. “But I don’t know how it works and stuff’s missing.”

           “So much for that,” Stanley huffed. “To defeat those guards, we’ll need some sort of army!”

          Stanford gasped, “An army! Stanley, that’s it!” He flipped through the book and showed off the pages over gnomes. “The gnomes!”

           “Eeeeeeeh,” Stanley started, turning away from the page and putting a hand on his neck.

 

          The brothers walked through the denser parts of the forest, down a trial they knew belonged to the gnomes. Stanley looked about. “I wonder what gnomes do all alone out in the forest.”

          Stanford parted a bush for them to walk through and then yelled in surprise. Stanley stepped back and gasped in shock and confusion. Below them, sitting in a mini bathtub with squirrels running in circles around him, was Jeff. He rubbed a squirrel on his side, humming a quiet song. When he noticed the kids, he jumped and lowered the squirrel and his arm. The other squirrels stopped. “Uuuuuh, this… this is normal. This is normal for gnomes. Scrub, scrub.”

          The boys looked at him in disgust, but said nothing.

           “Chris, you take five,” Jeff ordered to the squirrel he held. It bounced away. “The rest of you: keep doing what you’re doing.” The squirrels started moving again. “So, look who came crawling back! Change your mind about staying with us, did ya, Stan 2?”

           “Stanford,” Stanford couldn’t help but correct him. “We need your help.”

          Jeff bristled. “You want _our_ help? After you abandoned us? No dice!”

          Stanley smiled. Stanford did as well and offered, “You know, I am kind of sorry about that. But… what if we were able to get you a new offering? One even better than me!”

           “No,” Jeff stated bluntly. “Our queen died. You were going to be her last wish!”

          Stanford raised his arms. “I’m sorry! I… I didn’t know. But don’t you have a new queen?”

          Jeff shook his head. “No. We have to find one. We’ve been looking in your town.”

          Stanford hesitated and then smiled. “Actually, now that I think about it, that person I was offering is a really nice lady.”

           “Her name is Gideon,” Stanley agreed. “She has lovely white hair.”

           “Oh-ho! Mature woman, huh?” Jeff perked up. “Hey, Shmebulock! Get my cologne!”

           “Shmebulock!” Shmebulock jumped out the brush, a bottle of cologne saying “nöm” on it in his hand.

           “Is Shmebulock all you can say?” Jeff prompted.

          Shmebulock nodded, his face falling. “Shmebulock.”

          Jeff reached out of his tub and extended his hand. Stanford shook it. The gnome exclaimed, “It’s a deal!”

 

           “Where are you, journal?” Gideon growled. He looked over his book, which had a page stating: “Possible Hiding Spots” He took up a shovel and began digging.

          Bud ran up to Gideon. “Dad! I hate to interrupt you, but you have guests.”

          _“What?”_

 

          At the fence, Stanley and Stanford stood with their fingers curled into the metal wires. Stanford ordered, “Give us the deed to the Shack! Or else!”

          Gideon looked back at the two guards behind him and chuckled, “Am I supposed to say: ‘or else what’?” Behind him, the Mystery Shack still hadn’t been touched, though the Bud statue was almost completed. Someone was on it with a blow torch.

          Stanley glared at him. “Yes, you _are_ supposed to say that!” He raised his voice, “NOW!”

          The two guards behind Gideon shuttered and fell forward. Two gnomes stuck out of their backs like arrows. A buck ridden by Jeff charged the fence and broke it open. Other gnomes, some riding bunnies, other wielding pine-cone-tipped-spears, charged in after him. Some still climbed over the fence or the Shack. Soon, the entire place was flooded with gnomes. When Gideon tried to flee, he was met with spearman gnomes wielding the pine-cone-spears. He looked up to see Gnome archers wielding other gnomes. More gnomes surrounded him and pointed their heads down so that their pointed hats turned on him.

          Stanford announced, “You’re surrounded by an unstoppable gnome army! Now give us back our deed and get off our property!”

           “And let the marriage ceremony begin!” Jeff called. Excitement spread through the gnome army at the prospect of a new queen.

          Gideon sighed. “Oh, very well.” He reached into his suit. “I guess this deed belongs to-” He cut himself off as he put his whistle in his mouth and blew on it as hard as he could. The gnomes cried in pain and, hands clamped over their ears, fell in writhing heaps on the ground. Gideon laughed and shrugged. “Ha! What do ya know? It works on gnomes, too!” He blew on the whistle again.

           “Stop!” Jeff cried and flipped onto his belly so that he could kneel and bow to him. Gideon stopped blowing on the whistle and smirked at him. “We’ll do anything! How can we serve you, your majesty? The most beautiful girl we’ve ever seen!”

           “I’M NOT A WOMAN!” Gideon snapped and bristled.

           “Really?” Jeff prompted and touched is hand. “But your skin is so soft. You moisturize or…?”

          Gideon tore his hand out of Jeff’s and pointed to the twins. “Subdue them!”

          Stanford and Stanley attempted to flee, but they were already in the center of the throng. Stanley kicked and punched, but it did no good. This wasn’t just four gnomes and their leader. This was the entire army.

          Gideon laughed, “I’ve got to admit, kids, I’m impressed by your creativity. How did you ever…” Gideon’s voice trailed off as Journal Three fell out of Stanford’s jacket.

          Stanford gasped. “Oh no!”

           “No!” Gideon breathed. “Could it be?” He picked up the journal and flipped through its pages. “E-heh! Of course! It all makes sense!” He looked down at Stanford. “The one place I wouldn’t look- you had it the whole time! And to think I actually considered you a threat.” He tapped Stanford’s nose with a short laugh. He shut the book and held it under his arm.

           “Grr- no! Give it back!” Stanford attempted to lunge at the book, but he was held back by the gnomes.

           “Every victory you had was because of this precious book,” Gideon jeered.

           “Give it back!” Stanford snapped. “Or I’ll–”

           “You’ll what, boy?” Gideon interrupted and got nose-to-nose with the boy. Stanford recoiled, eyes round. “You’ll what? Huh? _Huh?”_ Gideon, satisfied, leaned back with a smirk. “No muscles, no brains- face it! You’re nothing without this!” Gideon pointed to the journal. He put it under his arm again and waved. “Bye-bye forever, now, ya’ll!” He blew on his whistle. The gnomes immediately fled, carrying Stanford and the still very fiercely struggling Stanley with them.

           “No!” Stanford cried, eyes still locked on the journal.

          Eventually, Stanford and Stanley were dropped off on the trail a very, very far distance away from the Mystery Shack. Stanford sat down. Stanley paced about. Gnomes scampered past them as they returned to their home. Jeff paused beside them. “Next time: do your own dirty work! Come on, boys!” He held open his pants to allow three squirrels to jump in. He ran off.

          Stanford sighed and stared at the ground. He trailed his finger over the dirt. “Well, guess that’s it. The bus should be here, soon.” His heart dropped to the bottom of his chest. The grim thought of how he could understand Grauntie Mabel and her hopelessness surfaced in his mind.

           “ _What?_ Ford!” Stanley stopped pacing and knelt by his brother. “You can’t be serious! Don’t give up! You always have a plan.”

           “Not this time,” Stanford mumbled. “Besides, the journal always has the plan.” He sat up straight. “Think about it! Gideon was right. The only courageous or cool things I’ve done this summer was because of that journal.” His gaze fell back to the dirt. “Without it, I can’t help you or Mabel or anyone…”

          Stanley stared back at him. “No. No, remember? On the beach? We never had that journal with us.”

           “We never fought gnomes in New Jersey, Stanley,” Stanford pointed out. “Or dream demons, robot dinosaurs, real dinosaurs, or Gideon.”

           “Man, there’s gotta be somethin’ we can do!”

           “What can we do?” Stanford turned his head to look Stanley in the eyes. Stanley had nothing to say.

 

          Sanford and Stanley stood at the edge of the bus stop, their wheeled bags in their hands. The bus door opened. “Last bus departing Gravity Falls” the announcer called. “All aboard!” The twins slunk onboard, heads down, and hands gripping their suitcase. They got to the back of the bus, where Grauntie Mabel waited.

           “I’m sorry, kids,” Grauntie Mabel stated, her eyes glimmering in the dying sunlight. “It’s for the best.” She turned away. The bus started off. Dan waved at them, his morose gaze following the bus. The other two kids, Hank and Nick, hugged each other, eyes shut tight and heads together.

           “I can’t believe this is happening,” Stanford stated, unwilling to move.

 

          Gideon shut the door behind him, giggling wildly. “I got it! I finally got it!” He raced into his room, book clutched tight to his chest. The goat wasn’t there anymore. Journal 2 sat on the table. “At last! At last I have Journal Number-” He set down Journal Three on Journal Two’s left. “- _three?!”_ He switched the journal placement. “There are _three_ of them?!” He put his hands on his fluffy hair. “But where’s Journal Number One? I must have all three for the power to be unlocked!” He slammed his fist into the table and set his hands on the journals. “But where could I-?” His eyes grew round in surprise. “Stanford! He must know where it is! He gave me the third one and kept the first for himself!” He tore his hair air with a terrible snarl. “I can’t let him leave Gravity Falls!” He grabbed the books and ran into the yard. “YOU THERE!” he shouted up at the completed statue. “IS IT READY?”

           “Old Woman” Chiu looked over the shoulder of the statue and lifted her mask. “Eh-heh-heh-heh! Only one way to find out!” She let go of her blowtorch and pulled a lever down. The Bud-bot shuttered. Lights flashed from each joint and then a great _whoosh_ and a _hiss_ accompanied compressed, hot air that escaped it. Its eyes and rosy cheeks glowed.

           “Bud!” Gideon shouted.

          Bud ran out from the house, gasping. “Dad? Did you find it?”

           “No!” Gideon snapped and turned to his son. “Stanford had the _third_ journal. I think he still has the first. He’s on a bus leaving Gravity Falls. You can’t let them leave!”

           “Yes, Father!” Bud raced to Bud-bot’s foot and stepped into an elevator of sorts. He was lifted up and, by the time he reached the head, he was dressed in a skin-tight, black suit covered with white dots. Shutters covering the eyes from the inside lifted and eyes themselves glowed. Bud had an extraordinary vantage point. His lifted his arm and punched it down. Bud-bot let go of the “Gleefulland” sign with one hand and shoved it into the ground with the other. Bud then, legs and arms apart, stomped on the space he was in as if he was walking. Bud-bot left the Mystery Shack.

           “Old Woman” Chiu, now on a wooden structure just about the bot’s height, put her hands on her hips. “I have a good feeling about that boy.”

 

          Inside McGucket’s house, Mabel sat on the couch, face in her hands. “Well, you’ve hit rock bottom, Mabel. No friends, no house, no job, no family.” She lifted a Bud-pin off the table and looked at it. “How did you do it, kid? How are u always one step ahead? Maybe he really is ps- ow!” She dropped the pin as her hearing aid screeched again. “What keeps causing that? Wait!” She jumped up. “I know Gideon’s weakness!” She darted out of the house, eyes alight in excitement.

 

          In the back of the bus, Stanford stared out the window, an elbow on the sill and his cheek in his hand. Stanley stared at his lap. Their bags lay on the seat next to them. The siblings stayed silent. Although Stanley would look up at Stanford and open his mouth to speak, no words came out.

          Somewhere nearer to the front of the bus, a phone rang. At first, neither of the kids bothered to care about it. Then, they heard Fiddleford’s voice. “Yeah, Thistle. I’m on the bus. I reckon I’ll be there tomorrow.” Fiddleford made a sad sound that resembled a laugh. “Sure, thanks. Tell Betsy and Arnold I said hi, then. … No, nothing’s wrong. … Yeah, I know. … No, you know I never really made any friends here. … Oh shush! Don’t talk to me like that! … It’s okay. I love you, Thistle. … Nah, I have a few books with me. I’m fine. … Hah! If ya tried readin’ once in a while, ya’d get why I love it so much!” Fiddleford continued his animated conversation with Thistleberg, his cousin.

          Stanley pulled out his Game-kid. He tried a half-hearted level of Super Plumbers before turning it off. He turned to Stanford. “So… do you want to play under-seat-treasure-hunt?”

           “Not in the mood,” Stanford grumbled.

           “Come on!” Stanley tried and lifted the seat between them. “Okay, so a Canadian coin, a gum shaped like Ronald Reagan’s face, a misc liquid stain,” Stanley listed as he pointed to different things.

           “Giant robot!” Stanford cried.

           “Yeah, giant ro- what?” Stanley dropped the seat and looked back.

          Behind them, Bud-bot raced down the road. “HALT! I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!” The pines twins screamed in terror.

          Fiddleford whipped around and looked back. “U-uh! Ah’m gunna have to call ya back, Thistle!”

          Stanley and Stanford raced to the front of the bus. “Mr. Bus driver!” Stanley called. “There’s a giant Bud robot chasing us!”

          The bus driver glanced at them as if they were insane. “What?” He looked into his rear-view mirror. Indeed, a giant psychopathic robot chased them. “Holy mackerel!” He grabbed the clutch and sped up the bus. “Hold on tight!”

          The kids immediately jumped into the first seat available. Fiddleford sat down on the opposite seat. He put a hand on his head, his fingers now tangled in his hair, and pulled out a few strands. “Oh, man. Ah didn’t know he had a robot.”

          Stanford exclaimed, “I didn’t know that either! Or that you were here!”

           “What’s he want, anyway?” Stanley asked and looked back. “I mean, he got the journal.”

           “He got the journal?” Fiddleford echoed. “You mean, the one with all the monsters and devices and potential for horrible destruction?!”

           “Yeah. Gideon stole it!” Stanford replied. “He’s insane! He and his little creep son!”

          The bus swerved to avoid Bud-Bot clapping his hands over the bus. Frustrated, Bud-bot reached over and dug his fingers into the road before them. They screamed as the bud driver, scared out of his wits, spun the bus and barreled through a sign that said, “ROAD CLOSED”.

          The bus turned and slowed a bit as it tried to keep traction on the road that wound around the jutting cliff. Bud-Bot climbed up the tree-covered cliff to meet up with the bus. Stanley screamed, “DRIVER! CLIFF!”

           “On it!” The bus driver slammed on the breaks and held onto the wheel for dear life. The bus skidded, and swerved, and screeched to a stop. Its lower half tottered over the edge of the cliff. When the bus driver attempted to drive the bus forward, it wouldn’t move. Both back wheels hung over the cliff, utterly useless.

          Bud-Bot stomped over to the bus, grabbed it by the roof, and shook it until the bus, now disconnected from its roof, fell with a _crunch._ Fiddleford took out a manual. “O-okay! So, uh, what’s c-closest t-to our c-current situation?” he stammered and flipped through the book. “C-coon in the engine, or angry g-grandparent won’t get o-off bus? Probably the second one.” As he spoke, Stanford and Stanley, clinging to each other for dear life, attached the grappling hook to the ground and fell down on the tracks. As soon as their feet hit the tracks that connected to the cliffs above the valley, they ran to the end.

          Bud-Bot looked down at him and then the tracks. Stanley and Stanford arrived at the end. The tunnel was blocked off. “DEAD END” was spray painted on it. Although that would have been no problem for the twins normally–they’d snuck under such constructs a million times before–this one was blocked by rocks.

          Bud-Bot jumped down onto the tracks. The kids yelled and skittered back as they tried to keep their balance. “Where is Journal Number One?” Bud demanded.

           “Journal One?” Stanley prompted.

           “What?” Stanford agreed.

           “Don’t play dumb with me!” Bud snapped and stalked forward. He punched the cliff above them. Rocks tumbled down on them. Stanley tore Stanford back as a boulder nearly hit him. He stood between Stanford and Bud-Bot.

           “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!” Stanley shouted back. “You took away our only journal! What do you even want with these journals, anyway?”

          Bud-Bot grabbed them both- one in each hand. Although they attempted to grab each other, the robot’s pure strength tore them apart. Bud-Bot held up Stanford and laughed in his face. “You still think you’re some kind of hero? Eh.” He turned and threw him back. Stanford landed on top of the cliff and hit his head on a rock. He sat up a put a hand to his head. Blood swelled in one of his nostrils.

           “Once we find the journal, we’ll rule this town!” Bud-bot announced and turned to Stanley. “You can still stay here, with us.”

           “I’d rather die!” Stanley spat back and then screamed, “Ford! _FORD!”_

          Stanford took a few steps back. He watched as the bot began to move. He looked about. It would take him ages to get off the cliff and run around to the rail road again. Even then, he didn’t have a rope or hook so he couldn’t get onto the railroad or off. Stanford’s shoulders slumped. He was helpless. His brother was being taken away by some psychopathic, robot-wielding kid and his father. His great aunt thought they were gone. Who knows how much trouble Fidds is in, now. This was nothing like any adventure on Glass Shard Beach- not even that time they chased after the Jersey Devil and nearly got hit by a bus. Stanford didn’t have his journal. Stanford was completely helpless.

          _“Face it kid,”_ Gideon’s voice hissed in his head. _“No muscles, no brains- you’re nothing without this journal. What are you going to do, huh?”_ Stanford took another few steps back. The shade of the pine trees fell over him. _“What are you going to do?”_ Stanford wiped the blood off his face and spun around. Stanford ran. He ran as fast as he could until his feet hit the cliff. Then, he jumped. Stanford was flying. He looked down at Bud-Bot, his eyes alight in fury. Bud-Bot and Stanley looked back at him. Just like in the convenience store, his fear melted more and more the closer he got to the object of his courage. He shattered the glass in Bud-Bot’s eye and pounced on Bud, throwing them both back. The robot fell onto its back.

           “Let go of my brother!” Stanford roared and punched him in the face.

          Bud retaliated and shoved him back so that he could stand. “No! I’ve won this time!”

          As the two fought, the robot mimicked Bud’s movements. Stanford grappled with him, his abnormal hands wrapped around Bud’s wrist and shoulder.

           “Let go of me!” Bud punched and shoved him back. Then, he lunged and pinned Stanford to the ground, where he beat into him mercilessly. Stanford’s glasses flew off and skittered onto the metal floor. Now unable to see clearly, Stanford’s poor fighting got much sloppier. He managed to shove Bud back and stand up. When Bud wound his hand back for another swing, Stanford grabbed his fist. “Huh?” Though Bud struggled fiercely, the ten-year-old could not free himself. Stanford grabbed his elbow to steady him and them made him punch himself in the face. The robot punched itself in the face, too. One last good hit caused the robot’s head to spin wildly. The two kids staggered and howled as they lost their balance in the insanely spinning machine. The robot stumbled and flailed as well.

           “CAREFUL IN THERE!” Stanley yelled, clutching Bud-Bot’s thumb for dear life.

          Then, the robot fell.

          Stanley and Stanford lost their grip and flew out of the robot as it plummeted down. Fiddleford watched in horror as the twins plummeted to their doom. _“NO!”_

          The robot hit the ground and exploded in show of blue flames and metal parts. The entire town stopped what they were doing as they felt the shockwave of the explosion. Out in the forest, the mangled robot lay in a nest of broken trees and burning metal. One arm was twisted at an odd angle and the other had broken off completely. Lights sputtered as the robot struggled to cling to life, but the fried mechanisms within it could not handle the strain and died.

          For a moment, everything was quiet. Nothing moved. No noise outside the sparking and creaking of the robot disturbed the terrified forest. The putrid stench of oil and rubber smoke drifted into the air. Heat from the fire started to die and calm as the fires stayed relatively compact and the wind whisked it away. Then, a shape buzzed slowly down like a spider leaving its web. Clinging to the grappling hook whose hook was stuck in the railroad above were the Pines twins.

          Stanley laughed, “Grappling hook!”

          Stanford hugged Stanley tighter. “Gosh you’re amazing!”

           “Not as amazing as you beatin’ up that robot!” Stanley pointed out as they landed. The grappling hook dislodged itself and clinked back into place.

          Stanford kicked a piece of metal. Underneath of it was Journal Three. “Hey! Our journal!” Stanford picked it up and hid it in his jacket. Red and blue lights washed over them and a _whoop_ of the police car stopped the duo in their tracks. Dozens of cars, including a news van, arrived at the scene. They stared at the dying robot on the ground. “Is this what made the explosion?” “What happened?” “What’s going on?” “There are kids here!”

          Bud crawled out of the eye, groaning. His black suit was torn and the bulbs were missing. Deputy Durland and Sheriff Blubbs raced to his side. “Bud!” Deputy Durland gasped and helped him down. “What happened?”

          Fat crocodile tears welled up in the boy’s eyes. “It’s the Pines twins!” he cried and hugged Sherriff Blubbs. He buried his face in the man’s side. “They attacked me and blew up my statue with dynamite!”

           “WHAT!?” Stanley and Stanford gasped. Sherriff Blubbs stood up, handcuffs in his hand.

           “Officers, he’s lying!” Stanford tried.

           “Sorry, kids,” Sheriff Blubbs denied. “We trust Bud. Nothing short of a miracle could–”

          An old woman screaming and the snarling of an overused car engine stopped any talking. Grauntie Mabel’s car barreled off the road and into the clearing, causing many people to back away. Grauntie Mabel, still attached to her seatbelt, opened the door and stood up. She waved her hands. “WAIT, WAIT! Stop everything! I’ve got something to say!” She scrambled to get out of her seatbelt and then raced over to the robot.

           “Not this woman again,” Sherriff Blubbs groaned.

           “Just wait! Look!” She stopped beside one of the panels of the robot. “You guys think that Bud is sooo perfect and honest!” She rolled her eyes and clapped her hands together. “‘Oh, I could never tell a lie! I’m Bud!’”

          Sheriff Blubbs put his hands on his hips. “We’ll he’s still better than you.”

           “Yeah!” Deputy Durland agreed. “And he’s psychic, too!”

           “Psychic?” Grauntie Mabel echoed with a laugh. “How’s _this_ for psychic?” She kicked one of the plates on Bud-Bot’s belly. It creaked and fell over so that it revealed a room covered in TV monitors. “Take a good look!”

          Indeed, the crowd came closer to inspect it.

          Lazy Susan gasped, “Wait a minute: is that me?”

          _“The secret ingredient to my coffee omelet is coffee!”_ Lazy Susan, on the monitor, announced.

           “And me!” Thompson Determined agreed.

          On a monitor, Thompson lifted his shirt to expose his belly. The doctor in front of him nodded. _“I can confirm that that birthmark is indeed disgusting.”_

          _“Hooray!”_

           “That’s me! That’s me!” The crowd pointed to different monitors with different cameras that showed their lives.

           “That’s right!” Grauntie Mabel held up the pin that Bud had given to her. She slowly waved it around the crowd. One of the monitors showed a moving picture of the crowd in live time. “They’re hidden cameras! My hearing aid was picking up the feedback! Who’s the fraud now?” Grauntie Mabel crushed the pin in her hand. When she opened it, it exposed little wires and metal pieces.

          The crowd growled, took off their pins, and smashed them onto the ground. They turned to Bud, who giggled nervously.

           “Bud,” Deputy Durland stated as he approached him. “We gave you our trust.”

           “Tough Girl” Wendy walked beside Deputy Durland. “You _lied_ to us!”

           “Whoa! It’s, heh, it’s not what it looks like!” Bud wheezed and backed up. He tripped and fell back onto the metal side of his robot. His gaze flicked about. “What are you going to do with me?”

           “Tyler,” Deputy Durland stated.

          Tyler looked away. “Get ’im.” He wiped his eyes. “Get ’im.” Bud gasped in terror.

           “Little Bud,” Sherriff Blubbs stated, “You’re under arrest for conspiracy, fraud,” he took off his glasses, wiped them off, and put them back on again. “-and breaking our hearts. Durland: the tiny handcuffs.”

          Deputy Durland took out a smaller pair of handcuffs. Bud sucked in his breath as the metal device clamped onto his wrists. “What? No!”

          Stanford and Stanley grinned and looked at each other. Grauntie Mabel opened the back door to the police vehicle. “Just one more thing!” She picked him up by the back and shook him. Pens, papers, various junk, and a journal fell. She let him go and picked up the deed to the Mystery Shack. “I believe this belongs to me!” She held it up. Everyone with a camera took pictures of her.

           “No! _NO!”_ Bud cried as he was forced into the police vehicle. His cheeks flushed red. “Watch the hair! You can’t do this to me!” The car door was shut, locked, and the windows were rolled up. Then, the police vehicle was off. “You’ll all see! You need me! I’ll be back!”

           “There you have it!” Shandra Jimenez announced. Mabel held Stanley on one shoulder and rubbed Stanford’s head. “Local hero, Mabel Pines, has just exposed Little Bud as a fraud! Anything you have to say to the town, Mabel?”

           “The Mystery Shack is back!” Grauntie Mabel announced. Stanley and Stanford held out their arms in a grand show, laughing all the while.

 

          The Mystery Shack was indeed back in business. Stanley, Stanford, Dan, and Fiddleford helped rebuild the sign. As Stanford’s glasses had been completely obliterated in the Bud-bot, he retrieved his spare from his suitcase. Gompers stayed glued to Stanford’s side. His old suit burned in the fireplace inside. Dan and Stanley took a step back as Dan finished nailing in the ‘S’ in Shack. The S immediately fell off and hit the ground, where Mabel inspected it.

          Inside the shop, Grauntie Mabel was flooded with customers all desiring Mystery Shack merchandise at the same time. She even signed autographs for people who wanted them. Somewhere in the gift shop, someone read a newspaper with the latest news: “Little Bud in the Big House”. It showed Little Bud behind bars. Farther down was a picture of Gideon and a quote. “He could use a time out.”

          An older man browsed through the selected shirts. Eventually, he picked out a gray shirt with a large black question mark on it. When he lifted his head, which seemed to be small compared to his large body, he hit the ladder that was right next to him. He sucked in his breath and put a hand on his head.

          Fiddleford, who had just finished screwing in a lightbulb, gasped, “Oh my gosh!” He climbed down from the ladder in an instant. “Are you alright, sir?”

          The man nodded. “Yeah, dude. Don’t worry.”

          Fiddleford tipped is head. “Wait a minute, I recognize you! You’re the repair fella from the Tent ‘o’ Telepathy!”

           “Former repairman,” the older man corrected. He held out a hand. “The name’s Soos. What’s yours?”

           “Fiddleford.” Fiddleford shook his hand. “So, you don’t work there anymore?”

           “Nope,” Soos replied. “The whole thing shut down. ’Guess Mr. Gleeful can’t work alone. That and everyone hates him. Haha! You’re the repair kid here?”

          Fiddleford nodded. “Yep!”

           “I could give you a few pointers if you like, dude,” Soos offered.

           “Thanks! Er- yes, please!”

          Soos laughed. “Well, let me pay for this shirt, first, dawg.”

 

          Eventually, the shack was finished. Stanford and Stanley finished redecorating their rooms. Grauntie Mabel opened the door. Stanley looked back and jumped off his bed. “Hey, Grauntie Mabel!”

           “Are you kids settling in okay?” Grauntie Mabel prompted and sat down beside Stanford on his bed.

           “Yep!” Stanley answered at once.

           “Hey, Grauntie Mabel?” Stanford asked, his journal in his hands. Grauntie Mabel turned to him. “Stanley and I have been talking and we decided that there was something we should show you.” He held out Journal Three. “This is a journal we found in the woods.” Grauntie Mabel gently took the old journal and immediately looked through it. Stanford went on, “It talks about all the crazy stuff that goes on in Gravity Falls. Bud and Gideon nearly destroyed the whole town trying to find it. I don’t know what it means or who wrote it, but after all we’ve been through…” He looked at Stanley. The two smiled and turned their attention on Grauntie Mabel. “-we thought you should know.”

           “I’m glad you showed me, Stanford.” She shut the book and then laughed. The boys lost their smiles and frowned at her. “Now I know where you’re all getting it from! Spooky monsters and scary spooks- this book has been filling your head up with crazy conspiracies!”

           “But it’s all true!” Stanford complained.

          Mabel laughed and pointed to something in the open book. “You’ve got to stop reading this fantasy nonsense. Though, some of these would make great attractions.” She showed them the Squash with a Human Face and Emotions. “You can’t come up with this stuff! Mind if I borrow this?” She stood up and walked away.

           “Wait, no!” Stanford called after her and jumped up. “Grauntie Mabel!”

           “Magic book!” she laughed. “Ridiculous!”

           “Mabel!” Stanford called again. “I need it!”

           “Ford!” Stanley interrupted. “You don’t need that book. Don’t you see? Without that book, you defeated an entire killer robot with your bare hands! You’re a hero whether you’ve got that journal or not.”

           “Whoa.” Stanford smiled and sat down. “Thanks, Stanley. I still want it back, though.”

           “She’ll give it back,” Stanley reassured him. “What could a boring old lady want with a book like that, anyway?” The two kids gasped as two streams of water splashed them. They looked back at the door.

          Fiddleford popped out a box, two water guns in his hands and a brilliant smile lighting up his face. “Stans!” The two boys laughed and chased Fiddleford out of the room.

 

          Later that night, Mabel, a lantern in her hand, walked up to the vending machine. After imputing the code, she opened it, walking into the concrete hallway, and shut it again. Without a breath out of place, Mabel walked down the stairs and to an elevator. After typing in a four-symbol code next to it and pressing the down button, she stepped into the elevator and descended. The dial blinked from “1” to “2” and finished at “3”, which was at the very end.

          The room she arrived in was alive with beeping lights, machines, gauges, and cameras. She ignored all of them and arrived at the end to sit down at a desk. She opened a sliding door on the desk and revealed a small shelf of books. “After all these years…” she said as she pulled out a silver-gray, old journal. A blue pine tree inscribed with the letter ‘1’ dressed it’s front. She set down the other two in order next to it. “Finally, I have them all.” She opened each one the two pages holding that weird page of symbols, angles, and sketches. When they were all put together, they showed a large triangle with a circle in the middle. Each vertex was attached to a large circle covered in symbols.

          Mabel scooted her chair to the side to approach a panel. She pressed buttons, imputed codes, and flipped switches. She referenced the journals every once in a while. As she did so, something in the next room on the other side of the glass sparked and glowed. She pressed one last button. _Bsccccchhhh_ hissed through the room on the other side of the glass. She looked up with a gasp. “It’s working!”

          She jumped up so fast she knocked over her chair and darted to the door next to the desk with a round circle window. She pressed herself against it in her hurry as the door opened itself. Within the room, various machines lined the walls and a few large circles surrounded by runes were engraved in the ground. The real show was the gargantuan machine that took up most of the space. The giant triangle with a hole in the center attached to three more circles dominated the room. Etched lines and circles glowed and sparked. Mabel took a giant lever next to it and forced her weight into it. The lever pushed down. Lightning crackled and sparked and jumped from the center of the machine. Runes glowed and buzzed. Lasers burned through the room for the slightest second before everything calmed and then burst into light. The circle in the triangle and the ones in the floor and circles on the vertexes glowed with blue light brilliant enough to light up the entire room. Runes around it glowed with the brilliance of the sun through a window.

          Mabel, hand on her hips, stared up at the machine. “Here we go.”

 

22-19-1-23-6-19 4- **16** -19 19-25-19 4-16-23-4 22-12-15-10-20-5 4-16- **9** -5-19 1-16-9 5-19-19 4-16-19 4-6-3-4-16…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ridiculously long chapter, I know. Just wait until the Season Two finale.  
> Bud, the little snipe, gets _a1_ carried away while Gideon stays behind. Whose fault is it? You decide. But all _z26_ that matters right _switch_ now is that Bud and Gideon _a_ are no longer attacking our _with_ favorite twins, right? Oh, and that Gompers is alright. Goat _z_ lives matter, too. It also seems that _three_ someone's been busy. Anyway, Season One is finished. I'm going to _letters_ skip the next day I am supposed to upload (Wednesday) so that there's a clear boundary _back_ between Season One and Season Two. You'll get to see Season Two by Friday.
> 
>  ***IMPORTANT QUESTION TIME***  
>  I think this particular story line is too close to the original show to really be them. I hadn't done all my research before I begun, which I am very embarrassed about since I studied the Undertale and Underfell fandom for weeks so that I could write "Fallen Under" well. Some chapters here I rushed because I'm a stickler for promises and I feel obligated to post a chapter every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I've got more headcanons and more "canon" material for the AU. But I don't want to leave this unfinished. So, instead of discontinuing this one, I'm thinking that after I post the last chapter of Season Two, I can upload a revamped version that's more to my liking rather than this, which has failed, in my honest opinion, to make me super proud of it. What are your thoughts?
> 
>  **tl;dr**  
>  I'm thinking of making a revamped version of this after it's done. Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm going back to the ever-so-popular Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule! I'll be posting a new chapter every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.


End file.
